Why me?
by catofawesomeness
Summary: 2p America (Al) develops an eating disorder and the rest of the 2p FACE family must help him cope. Warnings: Eating disorder violence blood gore alcohol and mentions of abuse. Rated T as of right now, but please tell me if you think M would be more appropriate. No 1p nations in this story. Only 2p.
1. Chapter 1

**Hi, guys! I know I haven't done anything in for-fucking-ever I'm sorry. I plan on actually finishing this one. However, burned to the ground is going to have to go up for adoption because I don't have any inspiration left for that fic. I'm sorry, guys. But that's just the way things go. I know I said I would update it in May, but it's December now, so I kinda went back on that promise didn't I. Sorry! **

**Okay, I need to put some warnings up on this thing so you don't freak out and bite my head off**

**Warnings: Anorexia, blood, gore, possible lack of updates in the future. Cause I'm so fuckin' busy, swearing, and alcohol. **

I park my beat up, blue pick-up next to the alleyway and step out, slinging my baseball bat (minding the nails) onto my shoulder. Walking to the back, I see five or six men waiting for me.

"So, do you have the money?" I ask "Um…well, we kinda uh…. Ya see, uhhh…." One of the stutters "Cut the shit." I snarl, narrowing my blood red eyes, brown hair fluttering around in the wind "Do you have the money or not?" "Well, uh… we uh…. Kinda-"

The man is cut off when I swing the bat. It collides with his skull, nails digging in, ripping the flesh and sending him sprawling. Unconscious. I look at the others. They are all staring wide-eyed at their dead companion. Amateurs. One of them, feeling a little brave it seems starts shouting

"YOU DIDN'T EVEN LET HIM FINISH, YOU FAT DISGUSTING PIG! I SHOULD-" I cut him off with two hard swings. One to the head and one to the groin. I don't hesitate this time. I know that they're not going to come clean about whether or not they actually have the money, so I beat them all into unconsciousness. I killed some of them, but that's not my problem. I never get caught anyway. When I'm done, I search their pockets and fiind the $2,000 I needed as well as an extra $100. I'll consider that payment for my troubles. Before getting into my truck, I gather two of the dead ones for Oliver to use in his human-flesh cupcakes he loves so much, and put them in the back seat one on top of the other. I put the baseball bat in shotgun and drive home.

I walk in the door and prop my bat against a wall. I go back outside to retreave the bodies. I grab each of them by the hair and drag them to the front poarch and kick the door open again, dragging them in

"Hey, Ollie!" I yell toward the kitchen "I brought home some ingredients." "Thanks, Al, just put them in the basement with the others. I put the bodies in the special room in the basement and walk back to the first floor. When I pass Oliver, he smiles and pats me on the back. I head for the stairs fully intent on a shower.

"Don't use up all the hot water this time, fatass." My brother Matt says from his position on the couch as I walk by. I flip him the bird and continue on up the stairs. I have to admit that that was the first time an amateur has stood up to me like that. Usually they cower in fear. They know from word on the street that I'm dangerous and will kill anyone who gets in my way. _Hmm… two fat insults in one night, huh? _I think to myself. Well, that's new. It's not entirely unheard of for Matt to call me fatass, but he doesn't use that insult particularly often. I study myself as I shower. Maybe it's time to go on a diet.

XxXxXxXxXxXx

Five minutes later, I step out of the shower. I look at my body in the full lengh mirror on the wall. Red eyes, tanned skin, and brown hair. Maybe they're right. I am a little big I should start cutting back a little. Oh, God I sound like a hormonal teenage girl. I mean I'm vegan, so I can't be that fat, right? Right? I wrap a towel around my waist and walk to my bedroom. I hear the front door close. Francis must be home. I can tell because I immediantly smell alcohol and cigarettes. I winkle my nose in disgust at the smell and close my bedroom door. Once I'm dressed in a plane white t-shirt and sweatpants, I go downstairs and sit on the leather couch next to my brother. He ignores e in favor of watching the hokey game that's on at the moment. My brother is obsessed with hokey. Go figure. He's the personification of Canada. Francis walks in and plops down on the other couch complaining about the noise leval and brightness of the room. We ignore him. He'll either suck it up, or acutally go to bed.

Francis walks in and plops down on the other couch complaining about the noise level and brightness of the room. We ignore him. He'll either suck it up, or actually go to bed. "Hey, didya hear me, fatso?" he says pulling on the sleeve of my jacket "I said turn it down." I continue to ignore him. He glares, narrowing his purple eyes and heads down the hall to his room. I decide to go to bed early and skip dinner for now, I'll eat later if I feel like it. I go back upstairs and to my room. I plop down on the bed and fall asleep within seconds, not even bothering to turn the lights off or crawl under the covers.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXx

Oliver's POV

Al didn't respond when I called him for dinner. Matt said he went up to his room. I walk up the stairs and knock on his door. Still no response. I wonder if he's okay, I mean even if I am a cold blooded murderer, he IS my little brother and all. I push open the door, and see him sprawled across his bed sound asleep. Now, I raised Al. I know it would take an atom bomb to wake him up. So I just put him under the covers, tucking him in like I used to when he was little. 'He's so cute' I smile, thinking back. Then, I pull myself out of my reverie and kiss him on the forehead before leaving, turning the lights off as I go. I wonder about him as I walk downstairs. He never falls asleep before dinner unless he's had a rough day or he's got a serious issue on his mind. I walk into the kitchen and Matt gives me a questioning look.

"He's asleep." I said "I'll keep his food in the fridge for later if he comes down." "If you can even call that soy gunk he eats food!" Matt says, rolling his eyes but he doesn't push it. He knows Al better than anyone and knows that him falling asleep before dinner is the sign of a rough day or a serious internal conflict. He'll never say it out loud, but I know he's a tiny bit worried. So am I to be honest. Well, it could have just been a rough day. It's happened before, I'm sure he's fine. I reassure myself, but something feels off about this whole thing. Well, I'll keep an eye on him. We might not be caught dead admitting it, but all four of us care about each other. We are brothers after all. Well, I'll admit it, but none of the others will. As dysfunctional as we are, we're still a family.

I manage to drag Francis to the table and the three of us eat in silence. After a few minutes, Francis breaks the silence "So, where's Al?" He asks voice slightly slurred from his earlier drinking binge "sleeping." I tell him "I hope he's okay." I add as an afterthought Matt snorts "You worry too much, old man. He'll be fine, he probably just had a bad day." I sigh "You're probably right. He'll be fine." I say. None of us could have known what was wrong. None of us would have ever guessed. Until it was too late.

End of chapter one

**How was it? Reviews are nice, but I'm not going to get on my knees and beg. Just review if you think it deserves one. Thanks for reading!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Wow, what's this? I'm updating within three months? OH, GAWD IT'S THE APOCOLYPSE! In all seriousness, this chapter has a little humor in it, just to mix things around a bit. I think you'll like it. I think I'm actually going to finish this one. It's a new idea, at least not one I've seen around before. Also, so that there is no confusion. I don't support developing eating disorders such as anorexia or bulimia in any way shape or form. I just felt like this was something I should publish… I'm still not quite sure why…**

3rd person POV

(Because it's easier to write. Most of my chapters are probably going to be in 3rd person from now on. Although I might make a few exceptions.)

Al woke the next morning to a horrible scream sounding a little like Godzilla eating a banshee. He felt around on the bedside table for his alarm clock. And, upon finding it, hurled the horrible device out the open window and right into the pond in Oliver's backyard, where Matt was feeding his grey wolf, Kuma. The sudden splash made Matt jump about three feet in the air and scream like a little girl even though none of the water landed on him. Then Al remembered why he set the demon device to wake him so early in the first place. He was going to do a good deed for the community today. He was going to kill an abusive husband who lived in the next town over. Oliver had been begging him to do it for months and it took another month to plan the kill. This guy did not make himself easy to kill. His lifestyle made it so he was almost always with someone. Be it his coworkers or his poor wife. Al's stomach growled like a dying wolverine as he started getting dressed in his signature white t-shirt, jeans, his bomber jacket and sunglasses. But he didn't have time to eat. He told Oliver where he was going and grabbed his bat on the way out.

"Wait, Al!" Oliver called, running into the foyer "I don't have much time, Oliver, what is it?" Al asked, putting his sunglasses on top of his head. He wouldn't need them till he got outside. "Did you eat breakfast?" Oliver asked, worry evident in his voice. "I don't have time to, Ollie." Al said "I'll eat when I get home." "But this sort of planned out kill takes you all day." Oliver said "Don't worry, Oliver. I'll be fine." Al reassured him before slinging his bat over his shoulder and walking out the door.

Matt came storming into the kitchen "WHERE IS THAT GODAMN FUCKTARD?!" He screamed "Matt!" Oliver said "Swear Jar. NOW!" Matt dropped some loose change in the swear jar gripping about how he was going to kill his brother. Oliver sighed "I've got to go make some more kills, when you're brother gets home, make _sure_ he eats something." Matt looked up sharply "Why? What happened?" Anger seemingly forgotten "He had to run off to make an organized kill today, and said he didn't have time to eat breakfast." Matt sighed "Fine, I'll get some food into him." "Great! Thanks, Matt!" Oliver says grabbing a bottle of poison and a few knives and heading out the door.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXx

Al's POV (Okay, my brain is deciding to switch between 1st and 3rd person POVs now… Just roll with me here.)

I picked the lock on the front door of the house and slipped in. I knew from the smell that the husband had been on a drinking binge earlier. I saw blood and his wife unconscious in the hallway. I knew she wasn't dead because of the steady rise and fall of her chest. I went into the bedroom and found her husband passed out with a bottle of what appeared to be vodka in hand. With one hard swing, I knocked him off the bed. He didn't move. I checked. Still alive. I kept hitting him in various places all over his body until he died and then just left him as a bloody pulp on the bedroom floor. I put a sticky note with a message written in neat handwriting next to his head. The paper was a special type Matt and I developed about five years ago. You can't get fingerprints off of it. I had also coated my hands in a substance to keep my hands from leaving finger prints on any door knobs. I then went back into the hallway. It had taken longer than expected to kill the husband, it was already four 'o clock in the afternoon. I left the house at about seven in the morning, and spent all morning and a good portion of the afternoon waiting for the man to come home early from his job. (I bribed his boss to fire him.) Then I had to wait for him to pass out after beating his wife. Anyway, I pulled the unconscious woman onto the couch and started bandaging her wounds. Once I was done, I left the victim's house and got in my truck and started driving home. When I got home, it was about six 'o clock. I leaned the bat up against the wall where it always goes and started upstairs for a shower. I looked down at myself in the shower. Even though no one had said anything about it today, I still felt fat, even though I hadn't eaten all day. When I got out of the shower, I decided to check my weight after drying myself off I've always kept a log of my weight, although I'm not quite sure why. I guess I just like to have records of that sort of thing around. In case I need them. I looked at my weight from last time I had weighed myself which was about a month ago. It was 153 lbs and I was 5'7". I know my height hasn't changed at all. Pulled the scale and the notebook I always use to record my weight from under the sink and stepped on the scale 150. Three pounds less than last time. It seemed like such a small amount to lose though. I stepped off the scale and wrote down the weight. After getting dressed, I walked down stairs again.

"There you are." Matt said "Ollie told me you didn't eat breakfast. And said to make sure to feed you when you got home today." He pressed a plate of vegan lasagna into my hands. I put the plate on the counter top. "I'm not really hungry tonight, Matt." I said rubbing my eyes "I'm really tired. I came down here to tell you I'm going to bed early." Matt narrowed his eyes "What the Hell is wrong with you today, Al? First you throw your alarm clock out the window and almost kill me with it and then you skip breakfast and now you won't eat dinner. And I know you didn't eat lunch today because you never eat lunch when you're on an all-day kill." "I'm fine, Matt." I say "Just really, really tired. I'll make sure to eat tomorrow morning." I lie and he looks at me with the 'Well, that's a load of Bullshit' look. He can always tell when I'm lying. "You know Ollie's going to kill me when he finds out I didn't feed you, right." Just tell him I was tired and didn't feel like eating. If he doesn't believe you, just get him to talk to me." I say like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "Granted you don't strangle him for waking you up." Matt says with a smirk. I chuckle and walk upstairs to go to bed.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

Oliver walked through the door covered in a significant amount of blood He walked upstairs and took a shower and dressed in a t-shirt and shorts. He walked down to see Matt sitting at the table, reading the paper. Matt looked up  
"How was it?" He asked "It was fine, did you feed Al?" He asked sounding worried "I tried, I really did. But I couldn't get him to eat anything." Matt said looking Oliver right in the eye. Oliver sighed, looking defeated "I'll talk to him tomorrow morning. I convinced him to take a day off some time ago, and he agreed to say home the day after the big kill." Matt looks impressed "Really? How? I can't get him to do shit." "MATT! SWEAR JAR! NOW!" Oliver yells holding the jar under his nose. Matt sighs in exasperation and drops some lose change in the jar. "I have to take care of some more kills tomorrow too. Please, please try to get him to eat something at least. I know for a face he never eats lunch on an all-day kill and he didn't eat breakfast and from what you said he never ate dinner." Oliver says worry shining in his blue eyes. "I'll do my best, but if he doesn't want to eat, there's not a lot I can do…" Matt says "Just try. And I'll be free the day after tomorrow, so I can try to help." Oliver says sounding hopeful. "I have to make some kills that day." Matt says "Try telling Francis. As crazy as it sounds, he'll actually believe you if you give him enough prof and if it's something as serious as you think it is, he'll actually help." Matt says. "He had to make some more kills today and tomorrow, but he should be free the same day you are. And I don't plan on making too many kills that day. I should be home fairly early." Matt says they hear the front door open and Francis walks in they don't smell too much liquor this time, so he must have taken it easy tonight. He sits down at the table next to them having heated up his dinner. He starts on it wordlessly until he looks around with tired purple eyes and notices.

"Where's Al?" He asks "He went to bed early." Matt says "He had an organized all-day kill today." "Francis." Oliver says "I've been getting worried about him. He hasn't been eating. He missed dinner last night, and didn't eat anything at all today. Will you help Matt and I keep an eye on him for the next few days and make sure he eats something?" He asks a pleading tone in his voice. Francis's face remained a perfect poker face and he looked at Oliver for a moment and sighed "Fine." "Thank you." Oliver said looking like he wanted to tackle-glomp Francis right then and there, but he held himself back. Hugging Francis could end very, very badly.

After everyone was finished with dinner, Oliver went upstairs to check on Al. He opened the door to Al's bedroom and sighed upon seeing him sound asleep spread eagled on the bed breathing deep. He looked so peaceful. Oliver sat at the foot of the bed for a moment thinking about Al and any possible reasons he wasn't eating. Oliver always made sure all three of his brothers ate three meals a day whenever he could. All of them had dealt with starvation conditions before and Oliver knew how horrible it was, and he knew he didn't want anyone close to him to ever feel like that. Knowing they had in the past was bad enough. So he carefully noted how much food each member of his family was getting and made sure it was enough to keep them healthy. Al had skipped four meals in a row so far. It could have just been a coincidence though. Even so, Oliver was worried. It worried him enough that Al never ate on an organized kill, but not eating breakfast before-hand or dinner afterward? That didn't seem like a coincidence. Oliver mentally shook himself Al wouldn't torture himself like that Oliver knew Al's starvation had lasted the longest and been the worst. He wouldn't want to go back to something so torturous would he? He had been starved in a Japanese POW camp during WWII. Conditions in the camp had been horrible. Oliver knew that first hand, he was the one to first find Al when they attacked the camp. He had been skin and bones, laying in the corner of a room, almost dead. Oliver still remembers the glassy look in his eyes and the huge grin that broke out on his face upon seeing his allies right before he passed out. Oliver had picked him up and carried him out of the camp with his own two hands, he knew how thin and malnourished Al had become in that place. He was on a feeding tube for a long time to try to get his body used to food again. When Matt found out he had been livid, and tried to strangle Kuro. Francis had dropped the poker face for once and his eyes held such an angry expression Oliver thought it could have wipe out half the population. Al had recovered in time and proceeded to hit Kuro several times with his baseball bat. I have never seen such a bloodthirsty expression on his face. In the end Al and Matt are the reasons for most of the scars all over Kuro's body. Oliver shook himself from his thoughts, tucked Al under the covered just like the night before, kissed his forehead and turned the lights out before exiting the room.

**Wow, 2000 words. I didn't actually think I could pull that off… Well, whatever. Favs/ follows and reviews are awesome but don't leave one if you don't think it deserves one. Just the stats on how many people have read it is enough inspiration for me! Tell me if you have any suggestions for better writing or if you find any mistakes yadda yadda yadda you know the drill. THANKS SO MUCH FOR READING!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hi guys! Wow I am updating every five seconds it seems! As of now I am hoping for four to five thousand words total after I write this chapter. I always make my goal to have at least 1000 words per chapter. If you've read my older stories you'd know that this goal has been ignored in the past. I'm going to try to change that with this story! I still don't know what the deal with my updating so fast is, but I'm not complaining! And I'm sure most of you skipped the author's note anyway, so I'm going to shut up now. **

3rd person POV

Al woke at about eleven 'o clock the next day to the smell of breakfast coming from downstairs. His stomach groaned like an emotionally distressed cow and he felt a sharp pain shoot through it he ignored it and went to the bathroom to weigh himself he stripped out of his t-shirt and sweatpants he wore to bed and stepped on the scale. 149. _Well, one pound is better than nothing._ He thought as he wrote it down in the notebook. _Maybe there's a faster way to lose this weight. I can try brainstorming some ideas and write them all down later._ He thought to himself as he got dressed, brushed his hair and his teeth and went downstairs.

Matt acknowledged his presence with a nod toward the food. Al swallowed hard. Maybe he could get away with just eating a little bit and make it up in exercise later? _Yeah,_ he thought _I'll try that._ He got one pieces of vegan bacon and one vegan egg (I don't know what else to call them. I'm not vegan and I don't know anyone who is. Sorry.) As well as a small piece of toast. He poured a glass of water and sat down next to his brother.

Matt looked at the small amount of food on his brother's plate with a raised eyebrow "Is that all you're going to eat?" He asked, standing up to feed Kuma who was scratching at the door. "Yep. Not very hungry this morning." Al said as casually as he could. When Matt was feeding Kuma, he scrapped about half of the egg into a napkin and set it on his plate as if he had just been wiping his mouth with it. He didn't know but Matt had seen it. "Where's Oliver?" Al asked "Making more kills?" "Yeah" Matt replied throwing a dead squirrel from the freezer toward Kuma who caught it in the air "He's out killing that grade school teacher. The one who backhanded a student in the face." Al chuckled "That's Ollie for ya. Always killing for the good of everyone else." Matt smirked and gave Kuma a pat on the head before closing the door. He sat down next to his brother who was now reading that morning's paper "Al, are you doing okay?" He asked Al looked at him like he had grown another head "Yeah, why? You never ask me that." "Oliver's been worried about you." Matt says "Doesn't think you're eating enough." "I'm fine, Matt." Al says "Just haven't been hungry lately for some reason." "You still need to eat, Al" Matt says "You know how Ollie is about us eating enough. Especially you." Al nodded "I know. He worries too much. Going to kill himself worrying one of these days." Matt smirked "Can't say it would surprise me." There was a moment's silence where Al picked at his food and Matt stared out the window.

"So, what do you want to do today?" Al asked once the moment had passed "Oliver wanted us to go shopping today. We're running low on food." Matt says standing up and taking his own empty plate to the sink. Al follows soon after, it doesn't go unnoticed by Matt that he barely touched the tiny amount of food he got. "Do you want to wait a while, or go now?" Al asks putting his plate on the countertop. "Yeah, sure." Matt says. The brothers walk down the walkway to Matt's car. They climb in and start for the store about four or five miles away from where the four brothers live. Matt grabs a cart and they walk down the aisles. Matt notices that Al doesn't pick any food which is strange. Normally when they go to the store, he picks four or five days' worth of vegan meals but this time, he didn't even look at the shelves. Matt sighed through his nose, and picked a few vegan things for his brother, hoping he could force at least something down his throat.

"Al, are you sure you're okay?" Matt asks looking at his brother who walks silently beside him "I'm fine, Matt." He says in a voice that sounds like he forcing himself to stay calm. Matt sighs through his nose and walks toward the checkout. Al helps his brother load the groceries in the car, but doesn't help him put them away when they get home, which Matt finds strange. He is genuinely worried for his brother at this point, which is something very rare. The last time Matt worried about his brother was when he was visiting him in the hospital after the Allies found him in a POW camp during WWII. He had been missing for days and Matt, although no one could tell had been going out of his mind with worry. He might not be caught dead showing it, but he actually cared whether his brother lived or died. He remembered walking in that hospital room, covered in blood, fresh from beating the living shit out of Kuro. Al saw that blood and he knew. Matt still remembers those red eyes widening at the blood, and then widening some more in realization at what Matt had just done. Matt had ruffled his hair and said _"Just a preview of what you're going to give him in a few days." _Al smiled a real genuine smile after that remark. It was the first time Matt had seen him smile like that since they were kids.

Al went up to his bedroom once they had gotten home to start the brainstorming process on how he was going to lose the weight he was sure he had gained from breakfast that morning. He pulled out a notebook and a pen and started writing down the possibilities

1. Exercise after every meal

2. Purging?

3. Eating less or not at all

4. Smoking?

5. Diet pills

It wasn't a very big list, but it was something. He wasn't sure how he was going to work exercising after every meal in, but he would think of something. Purging? He had heard of it and it sounded disgusting, but he was willing to try almost anything at this point. Eating less or nothing at all would be suspicious to Oliver and Matt after a while. Hell, after some time even Francis might notice. Smoking? He had always been disgusted by the very idea of smoking so that was out of the question. Diet pills were obviously good for something otherwise they wouldn't sell them right? He decided to go on the internet and search for some reviews on different diet pills he could try. He still hadn't used that $2100 he got in the first chapter, so he had plenty of money. He got on Google and typed in diet pill reviews just to see what would come up. He clicked on the first site that looked trustworthy and compared reviews on several different types the best reviews were for a pill called Rapidlose. He checked the prices and they said around twenty to thirty dollars. That wasn't too bad. Reviews said it helped them drop ten pounds within a month. That sounded like it was almost too good to be true. He would purchase the pills on Friday. Today was Wednesday and Oliver had convinced him to take today and Thursday off. On Friday he was making some smaller kills that took less planning. He checked the clock on his computer. One 'o clock. Matt was going to expect him to eat soon. He would eat to humor his brother and then maybe plan some more. He stood up and went to the bathroom. Weighing himself again he saw that his weight was 146 now. Well, three lbs was better than nothing. He left the bathroom and went back to his own room. He walked over to his bed plopping down on the soft mattress. Maybe a little more sleep would be good for him.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXx

Matt walked up the stairs when his brother didn't respond after he called him for lunch. He opened Al's bedroom door and saw his brother sleeping peacefully (A word almost never used to describe Allen F. Jones). He also saw the computer on and looked over at Al. If he woke up and saw Matt on his computer it would not be pretty. Matt walked up to his brother poking his face to see how deep a sleep he was in. Al didn't move Matt poked him a few more times before coming to the conclusion that his brother was out like a light and nothing was going to be waking him up any time soon. He then walked over to the computer and saw that there was a Google search for diet pill reviews up. He checked the history and also saw searches for weight lose ideas and diets. Matt looked fairly surprised. He closed down the computer and decided to check the bathroom where the scale was to see if he could find any other ideas as to what his brother was doing to himself. He checked and found the scale in its normal place but he also saw a notebook sitting on top of it. He pulled the notebook out and looked in it. It was a log of Al's weight over the past five years. For a while they only fluctuated two lbs up or down and Matt knew that that was normal. Your weight is supposed to do that. Then he looked at the most recent records and saw that Al had started to lose more and more weight. He put the notebook back fully intent on showing Oliver later that night. For now though, he would let Al rest.

XxXx 4:30 that afternoon XxXxXx

Oliver walked up the path to his home, bottle of poison in one hand favorite knife in the other. He was covered in blood. He walked in and went upstairs, throwing the bloodstained cloths down the laundry chute to wash later. He scrubbed the blood off his body and out of his hair and wrapped a towel around his waist. He walked down the hallway to his room and changed into a t-shirt and shorts and walked downstairs. Matt was sitting on the couch, reading when he walked in. "Where's Al? Did you manage to feed him?" He asked sitting in a chair across from Matt. "I got him to eat a little bit during breakfast, but I couldn't make him eat lunch." Matt said, actually sounding worried. "Is he still asleep?" Matt asked "I think so." Oliver said "Let me check." Oliver walked up the stairs and into Al's bedroom to find him passed out on the bed _'does this boy ever get under the covers?'_ Oliver thought as he tucked his little brother in kissing him on the forehead again. He walked back down stairs and into the living room. "He's asleep." He reported to Matt. Matt nodded and said "I need to show you something I found today." He said walking upstairs Oliver followed him fear and dread rising in his stomach. Matt pushed open the bathroom door and crouched down to open the door of the cabinet below the sink where the bathroom scale was kept. He pulled Al's notebook of weights out and gave it to Oliver. Oliver flipped through the notebook eyes widening when he read the last few pages with any writing on them.

"Oh, my God." He whispered Matt nodded. "What are we going to do?" Oliver asked tears welling in his eyes "I would suggest waiting." Matt said "It's not too bad yet that he couldn't realize what he's doing to himself and turn around. If that happens then he'll go back to normal within a few days' time." Oliver nodded, swallowing hard, tears threatening to fall from his blue eyes. "I-I don't even know what to think…" He said in a broken, lost voice. Matt nodded in sympathy. "Should we tell Francis?" Oliver asked looking at Matt with wide blue eyes "I think so." Matt replied standing up and helping Oliver to his feet. He put the notebook back under the sink. The two men went downstairs, Oliver still trying to digest all he had just found out. They sat wordlessly in the living room, waiting for Francis to get home. Oliver started dinner at around 5:30 and Francis got home right as he was setting the table. Only three places, since he knew Al was still sleeping.

During dinner, Francis asked "Where's Al? Sleeping again?" "Yeah. Francis?" Oliver asked blue eyes still pained "Hmm?" "There's something Matt and I need to show you after dinner." Oliver said voice sounding absolutely hopeless. Francis nodded and went back to noming on his dinner.

After dinner, Matt and Oliver lead Francis to the upstairs bathroom and showed him the notebook. Francis's eyes widened ever so slightly and he asked "What's your plan?" "We wait." Matt said "There's still a chance he'll realize what he's doing to himself and stop this." Francis nodded and the three of them went back downstairs.

That night, Oliver couldn't sleep. He decided to go downstairs to get some tea or something to relax him a bit. He stood up and walked down the hallway toward the stairs, but heard a strange sound when he passed the bathroom door. He saw that the light was on. That's when he recognized the sound as reaching. Was someone sick? He opened the door fearing the worst and saw Al kneeling in front of the toilet, reaching.

"Al! Are you alright?!" He asked taking a few steps toward his little brother. Al straightened and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. "Yeah, I'm okay. Just a little sick." Oliver pretended not to see his hand move a toothbrush behind the toilet. Oliver felt his forehead. "Well, you don't have a fever." Just brush your teeth. I'll make you some tea. It might help a little. Al nodded and waited until Oliver left the room to take his toothbrush out from behind the toilet and wash it. He then brushed his teeth and gargled a little water. He spat the water back into the sink and flushed the toilet. That was close. Too close. He would just have to find a better time to purge if he was going to start doing that. He walked downstairs just as Oliver was taking the water off the stove. He sat at the kitchen table and Oliver handed him a cup with his tea in it. "Thanks." He said, sipping at the tea a little as Oliver ruffled his hair. They made small talk about recent kills and the like as they drank the tea, just enjoying each other's company. Although through all the small talk, Oliver felt like crying. Why? Why would he resort to _that_ just to lose weight? When they were both finished with their tea, Oliver took the cups back to the kitchen and they both headed back up to bed. Oliver felt like crying and that's just what he did. He cried silently, tears streaming down his face and onto the pillow. He cried for his little brother he raised, he cried for his body which was slowly but surely wasting away he cried for his mind which must have been being tortured by this. What could have driven Al to that? Why? Why would he do this? It was beyond Oliver. He couldn't imagine even considering something like that at a weight lose method. It hurt him to see Al like that, but he had to wait. If things got worse, he would take action. But for now, he needed sleep. He wiped the tears off his face, rolled over and fell into a troubled sleep.

**Wow, word count for this whole story is about 5,000-6,000 words. I'm surprised. I never thought I would be able to do that. Damn. Well, I'm not really sure how this story's going to turn out, but I've been writing like crazy. Anyhow, you know the drill. If you feel that this story is worthy of it by all means follow/favorite or review, whatever. Thanks for reading!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Well guess who's updating all over the place! But trust me, don't get used to this. Once school starts again I will be all kinds of busy, so updates will be fewer and farther between. I'll try to update on weekends though. And I get MLK day off in January, so I plan on updating then. **

The next day, Al didn't get up until Noon. He went to the bathroom and weighed himself again 144 lbs. Only two more pounds. He was still going to try to lose weight. No matter what anyone said. He brushed his teeth, took a shower, got dressed and walked downstairs where Ollie and Francis were sitting at the table eating… Lunch? Oh, right, it's Noon.

"Hello, Al." Oliver said. "Are you hungry?" "Not really." Al said rejecting any offer of food "I'm going to go walking for a little while. I'll see you later, Ollie." Oliver looked kind of defeated "Oh, alright, Al. Just make sure you come back by dinner." He said sounding almost sad. Oliver sat down at the table again face the absolute picture of hopeless. Francis looked up expecting Oliver to speak and he did after a few minutes "I found him in the bathroom last night." Francis's eyes widened for a fraction of a second. If you blinked you would've missed it. He got what Ollie was implying but kept a straight face as always. "I thought he was just sick at first and then, I saw him push a toothbrush behind the toilet. Why Francis? Why would he resort to something like this?" Oliver asked near tears. "He'll lose weight by any means he can, Oliver." Francis said poker face in its usual place "He can't see what he's doing to himself. Not yet anyway." Francis said in the normal monotone he always used on the few occasions on which he spoke. "What's Matt going to say?" "What am I going to say about what?" A voice from behind them asked "Oh, Hello, Matt." Oliver says turning his head "I didn't think you would be home this early." "Oliver, what happened?" Matt asked Oliver's face fell and he looked at his hands "I found your brother in the bathroom last night." Matt sucked in a sharp breath as he got what Oliver was implying "I thought he might have just been sick at first. I was praying that that was it, but then I saw him push a toothbrush behind the toilet and I knew that wasn't it." Matt's eyes widened "Where is he now?" He asked "He said he was going to take a walk. I'm not sure when he'll be back. I told him before dinner, but I don't know if he's going to actually eat it or not anymore." Oliver said, voice cracking. Matt sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I'm going to take a shower. I'll check his notebook while I'm in there." Matt said walking out of the room. Oliver left the room too, but without saying anything. He went to his room and sat on his bed and just let the tears flow. Soon enough, he was sobbing his heart out into his pillow, thinking about how his brother was slowly but surely killing himself.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXx

Al walked down North Main Street, (I just used the name of the busiest street in the town I live in :P)

Cars passing him by. He just kept walking and walking. He checked his watch. He had been out here for about three hours. He turned and walked down another street until he reached a convenience store. He walked in and headed straight to the bathroom. Once there, he pulled his toothbrush out of his pocket (he had put it there that morning.) and leaned over the toilet…

A few minutes later, He pulled back, having finished purging his stomach of whatever substance he hadn't managed to purge last night. He gargled and spat water for a few minutes more before stepping out and leaving the store. He continued to walk for another hour before he decided to turn around and head back. It took him three hours to get back. It was about six 'o clock by the time he got back.

XxXxXxXxXx While Al was gone XxXxXxXx

Once Oliver had composed himself and stopped crying, he washed his face off in the bathroom, before going downstairs to find Matt sitting on the couch, reading. "What are we going to do now?" Oliver asked, sitting next to him. Matt sighed, closing his book. "I don't know. Do you think he stands a chance at getting better?" "Well, what was his weight according to his notebook?" Oliver asked "144." "That's still in a healthy weight range for him…" Oliver said trailing off "Okay," Matt said "If he's still healthy, then why don't we wait for a little while longer. You know how much he hates people trying to help him." Oliver sighed "Okay, we'll wait, but only for a little while longer. But I hate to sit back and watch him go through this alone. It hurts, Matt. God, it hurts." Matt raised an eyebrow at that admission of pain. "He'll be fine, Oliver. We won't let him die." Matt reassured him "We have records of his weight. He'll be fine." Oliver took a shaky breath "Okay, you're right. He'll be fine." But it sounded like he was trying to reassure himself more than Matt. He let out another sigh and looked at the clock it was 5:30. "I'm going to start on dinner." He said, heading toward the kitchen "Don't poison it this time." Matt said, going back to his book.

Al got home about a half an hour later right as Oliver was setting the table. He walked in the kitchen. "Hey, Al." Oliver said, taking the vegan meatloaf (PPFT! Vegan meatloaf. That sounds so wrong. But then again when you think about it meatloaf sounds weird enough. I mean a loaf of meat… Ugh... Okay, I'll shut up now.) Out of the oven. "Are you going to go to bed early again?" He asked "Yeah… Just save my dinner for later, I guess." Al said as he walked up the stairs to the bathroom. He turned the shower on to disguise the sound and took his toothbrush out…

After he was done purging, He took a shower, he still felt so fat and disgusting. That walking might have taking some weight off of him. Hopefully. He got out of the shower and towel dried his hair before getting out the scale and notebook. He stepped on the scale 135. Wow that was a nine pound difference. That was so impressive it was almost scary. He wrote down the new weight and wrapped his towel around his waist. He walked to his bedroom and crawled into bed after changing into a t-shirt and shorts. He turned the lights out and fell asleep within minutes.

XxXxXxXx After dinner XxXxXxXxX

Oliver got a call from Luciano at about 7:00 he needed help with a complex night kill and Ollie was the only person he knew who was open that night, so Matt went upstairs to check on his brother before he went to bed. He walked up the stairs at about 11:00. He walked into his brother's room and turned the lights on, knowing it couldn't wake the beast from his slumber. He sat on the foot of Al's bed, and watched him sleep for a moment. Just remembering the times he had had with his brother. Both good and bad. He remembered them playing together as children and driving Oliver crazy with their antics. He remembers the war of 1812 when they burned each other's capitals. (They had made up since then of course.) He remembers secretly helping his brother through the civil war, even though he wasn't supposed to. He remembers suffering through the trenches of WWI with him he remembers being with him through the roaring twenties when everything was great and spirits were high. He remembers being right there next to him when the stock market crashed throwing him into a violent depression. And suffering with him through that depression. He remembers fighting side by side with him through WWII. He remembers seeing him in that hospital bed, skin and bones being fed through a tube because he was taken prisoner. They had forgiven Kuro since then, and were on speaking terms with him again. He remembers Al's constant headaches during the civil rights movement because of the split opinions of his people. He remembers his brother during the cold war constantly muttering to himself about 'Commie bastard' and 'Gonna kill that sonofabitch…' (Oliver was a fucking millionaire afterward because of his stupid swear jar.) He remembers Al's screams of pain as he suffered through the 9/11 attacks he remembers everything. He sighs through his nose and pats Al's leg as he stands up to leave, turning the light back off as he goes.

XxXxXxXxXxXxX

The next morning, Al wakes up at about 10:00. He grabs his cloths and walks into the bathroom. He strips out of his t-shirt and shorts and steps onto the scale 130. Five pounds lost. He writes it down, and turns the shower on and takes out his toothbrush yet again. After he purges himself of any weight that might have clung to him, he puts the scale and notebook back where they belong and showers. After the shower, he brushes his teeth and hair and heads down stairs. Once down there, he grabs his bat from its spot next to the door and goes outside without telling anyone. Once in his truck, he pulls a list of the kills he needs to make first off was one Ollie got him to do: a sex offender who lived about five blocks away. He could have walked but the next kill after that was about an hour's drive away, so he needed to get going.

XxXxXxXxXxXx

Oliver kept waiting for Al to come into the kitchen after his shower but when he heard the front door open and close he gave up hope and put yet another meal in the fridge for later. Not that later would ever come. The dinner he saved from chapter one was still in there. He sighed. He would get Al to eat eventually. No matter what it took.

**Wow. I never expected a story like this to be this much fun to write. But damn I might be finished with this before Christmas break is over. That would be awesome. Then I wouldn't have to deal with ridiculous amount of guilt at my own lack of updates. Also, I have a story up for adoption if anyone's interested. Review fav/follow if you felt this story was worthy! Thank you for reading!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hi! First off, I'd like to thank anyone who has reviewed followed or faved this story so far. It means a lot. Every time I see that number climb, I know there's someone out there who likes this. Anyway, I hope I'm not making these guys too OOC or anything… I mean, if they are, they kind of have an excuse. Their brother has a freaking eating disorder, I'd be acting out of character too if I found out one of my siblings had an eating disorder… Anyway, if the OOCness annoys you, tell me, and I'll try to change it. **

Al drove to his first kill's house which looked just like a normal house, red brick, white fence, flamingos in the front lawn. Everything you would expect about a stereotypical suburban home, he checked the list. He was at the right address. Well, sometimes these guys can surprise you. He walked up the path, and kicked the door down to find a man, who matched Oliver's description laying passed out on the couch, half empty bottle of wine in hand. Al woke him up with one hit to the groin, and then beat him to death, which took longer than it usually did. Normally it took a half an hour at most to kill someone and that was when they were in peak physical condition. This guy obviously was not, but it had taken forty five minutes to kill him. That was strange, but Al didn't spare it another thought as he left the house and got in his truck. He looked down at the list. Only two more kills to go, both of them were in a town called Harvest about an hour away. One was someone who owed Matt money, but kept running to different towns surrounding the area, Matt couldn't fit him into his schedule, so he gave it to Al. That happens in their little family fairly often. One person has an overcrowded week, so they give another family member some kills they couldn't handle. The other one was someone who Luciano paid him to kill and when Luciano pays you to kill someone, you don't question it, you just kill them, and that's just what Al did. Once he was in town, he found both addresses about five blocks away from each other. Once he had finished the kills he got back in his truck, he wasn't covered in blood this time. He smelled faintly of it, but it wasn't all over him. He looked at his dashboard, covered in sticky notes, and saw one reminding him to buy diet pills. He drove to the CVS in Harvest and found and purchased two bottles of Rapidlose. After reading the directions on the back, he dry swallowed two of the pills and tucked the bottle into his pocket, a hand brushed his toothbrush; he would wait until he had the change to digest the pills before purging himself. He would give them four hours to absorb into his bloodstream before purging again.

XxXxXxXx during this, with Oliver XxXxXxXxXxXx

Oliver went up to the bathroom after he hear Al leave and checked the notebook 130. He gasped. But then again 144 was still normal for Al. So, 130 might not be underweight. He decided to print out a BMI chart to make sure Al was still within a healthy weight range. He went on the internet and once he found a healthy website, he printed out the chart it had and checked. 130 was still a healthy weight. It didn't seem right, but he would just have to wait. He folded the chart and put it in a drawer of his desk, and shut down his computer. After he was done with that, he went back downstairs and started baking to take his mind off things.

XxXxXxXxXxXx

Once Al was done with all his kills for the day it was about 1:00 in the afternoon. He headed home and walked in the front door. He went upstairs to shower and get the fresh blood smell off him. After his shower, he left the water running while he purged himself. It hadn't been four hours yet, but he didn't hurl up anything resembling a pill, so he figured they had already dissolved into his bloodstream. After he purged himself, he dried himself off with a towel, and stepped on the scale. 125 another five pounds. He wrote it down, got dressed, and went to his room. He crawled under the covers and fell asleep.

XxXxXxXxXx 6:00 that evening XxXxXx

Oliver had heard the door open and close that afternoon of course, but by now he knew better than to expect Al to come in the kitchen and ask for lunch like he used to. It was dinner time now, and Oliver set everything out on the table and went upstairs to see if Al was awake or not. He opened the door to find him sound asleep again. His eyes tear up at even the mere sight of his brother who was slowly killing himself. And in all honesty, killing a part of Oliver with him. Oliver stroked Al's hair absent mindedly for a while before kissing him on the forehead again and leaving the room. He went downstairs and ate dinner with the rest of his family

Neither Matt nor Francis bothered asking where Al was. They already knew. Matt got up after he was finished and went to his brother's room to check on him. He looked fine, so Matt went to his own room. He sat on his bed for a while, wondering what to do with his brother. He sat there, just thinking about things for a while until he heard a harsh coughing sound coming from his brother's room. He decided to check on him again, just to make sure it wasn't anything too serious. As he was walking down the hallway, the coughing didn't stop. If anything, it got worse. He opened Al's door and saw his brother, sitting up in bed coughing up a lung, with one hand over his mouth. Then the hand moved and Matt saw blood cupped in it. He stepped forward, not fazed by the blood at all.

"Al, are you okay?" He asked just the tiniest bit of worry showing through in his voice, although inside, he was panicking. *cough cough cough* "Yeah, I'm fine *cough* was his reply, as more blood came up, Matt grabbed his brother by the arm, and dragged him downstairs, still coughing, to where Oliver and Francis were sitting in the living room, reading. When they saw the state the two brothers were in, Oliver sprang forward visibly panicking and Francis's eyes widened ever so slightly. "Oh, God! Al! What happened?!" All Oliver got was more coughing. But after a few seconds more, the coughing stopped as did the blood albeit a small trickle down his chin. "I don't know. I just started coughing and this happened." Matt looked him over "Well, if it were coming from your lungs, you would have coughed up a lot more than you did. Do you feel alright?" He asked of his own accord for once, and not on request from Oliver. "Yeah, I feel fine. Nothing hurts." Al said, standing up straight again. Oliver sighed in relief "I'll go find you some clean sheets, I'm sure some of it got on your bed." He said, walking out of the room to find some. Matt wanted to go all Oliver on Al and ask about a million times whether he was alright or not, but that would just end in getting punched in the face. Al got plenty of that treatment from the original Oliver. He didn't need another one. Oliver came back in the living room a moment later.

"I changed the sheets. Are you still feeling alright, Al?" He asked, feeling Al's forehead "I'm fine, Oliver, really. Stop worrying. I'm going to wash this blood off and go to bed again." Al said, leaving the room. Once he was gone, Oliver broke down, clinging to Matt. *sniff* "You saw all that blood, right Matt? He's slowly killing himself! Killing himself! *Sob sob sob* "Why? Why would he…" Oliver cut himself off crying even harder. Matt looked so confused as to what to do. He had never had to deal with a person having a breakdown in his arms. "Er…" Was all he had to say for Oliver to let go of him and run to his room, still crying like a baby. Francis who had watched the breakdown with slightly surprised eyes. His expression soon hardened again as he went back to the paper and told Matt to "Change shirts, that one's covered in blood."

Once he got upstairs, Al showered, checked his weight 120. Five more pounds lost. He wrote it down, and showered again, before putting on some clean cloths, and getting into bed.

XxXxXxXx

Oliver staggered up the stairs, sobbing, and flew into his room. It killed him to see the little brother he raised reduced to this. He cried himself to sleep, a trembling little ball of misery.

XxXxXxXxXx

Matt changed his shirt and washed Al's blood off his hands and arms, before crawling into bed. What could have caused this? Had he torn up the tissue in his throat, or was it the lining of his stomach deteriorating. It couldn't have been the stomach, if it were, the blood would have come up as vomit; not just something he coughed up. How often did Al purge, anyway? Was it an everyday thing for him? He would find out eventually, he wasn't going to let his brother die.

XxXxXxXx

Francis put the paper down after about ten minutes of staring at it, not taking a word in. He never thought Al would do something like this. Never expected something like this. He let out what could have been a sigh, this was why he tried not to attach himself to others; it always ended badly. He went to bed after a few more minutes of thinking and reflecting on what was going on with Al.

XxXxXx The next morning XxXxXxXx

They all had that weekend off, so unless he went out for something, no one could check Al's notebook. Oliver knew he was going to need Al out of the house for a while if he were to check the notebook. "Hey, Al, Matt's going to the store to pick up some things we need. Why don't you go with him?" Oliver asked. "Sure…" Al said after a moment. Oliver shot Matt a meaningful look which he got and nodded ever so slightly.

Al had weighed himself again when he got up that morning. Right after taking his diet pills. 119. Only one pound. It seemed sad. He had been doing so well. Losing nine pounds that one day was just crazy. He knew it wasn't a screw up with the scale, because his weight just kept going down and down. But that was a good thing, right? Right? These were the thoughts that ran through Al's head as he and Matt made their way to the store. He thought about the next week. They always took Saturday and Sunday off as a tradition, but on Monday and Tuesday he had to make some more kills He was taking Wednesday off but on Thursday he had to go killing again. He had Friday off. Sounded like one hell of a week. He wondered just how much longer he was going to be able to keep the purging hidden the purging and the lack of eating. Deep down (although he would never admit it.) He knew it was a problem and his methods weren't healthy but that realization was hidden deep in the back of his mind, not to be discovered until much later. _'It's okay'_ That voice in his head told him _'It's perfectly healthy. It's not going to hurt you. You'll just lose weight until all that fat goes away. You'll be fine, it's perfectly healthy. And you're doing so well!' _Why did that voice sound like a girl? That was just plain creepy

By the time he was done with that chain of thought, they had arrived at the store, and Matt was waving a hand in front of his face "Hey, Al, wake up!" He said "Huh? Oh, sorry, Matt. I spaced out for a second." Matt opens the door and gets out, Al following him He walked into the store, observing Al's behavior closely. He seemed almost scared and stayed fairly close to Matt the whole time which was very concerning to Matt. Allen F. Jones was **_NOT_** a clingy person. There was definitely something wrong with his brother. He had known that from the beginning, but now, things were just getting worse and worse.

XxXxXxXx With Oliver and Al's weight notebook XxXxXxX

Oliver went in to the bathroom the second the brothers left the house, and pulled out the notebook and BMI chart he had taken from his bedroom. He looked at Al's weight 119. He felt tears prick his eyes, until he looked at the BMI chart. He was at the right weight for his height. Still. Oliver's shoulders slumped in defeat. He stood, put the notebook back under the sink and took his BMI chart back to his room, and stored it in the drawer. He sat on his bed staring into space _'It's going to be okay, Al'_ he thought _'I'm not going to let you die on me. I'll do anything I possibly can to keep you safe. Even if it means saving you from yourself.' _

**Well, I'd say it went well. I haven't updated as much today, because I was up until three A.M last night and woke up at Noon today, and then at about 4:00 Mom said we were going to go see an old family friend, and we spent about an hour there. I don't know if this is all I'm going to put up today or not… **

**ANYWAY, follow/fav. If you felt it was worthy or review. THANK YOU FOR READING!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Hi, so, I'm updating again! Thanks to all who are actually reading this story, It means a lot! Mah kitteh is asleep on my bed. She's so cute! ****3) **

Al skipped dinner under the excuse that he was too tired, again. He purged while the shower was running, as usual, and stepped on the scale 115 pounds. He looked in the full length mirror on the wall. He still looked fat. He looked so, so fat. He wanted that weight gone, and as soon as possible. What poor Al didn't realize what that in a week's time (Don't question my logic. It's fanfiction. It works!) he had managed to drop too much weight. He wasn't nearly as skinny as he was after WWII, but he was getting there. You could see the outlines of his ribs quite clearly, and his hips jutted out. To anyone else, it would have been painful to look at, to Al, it was the most disgusting thing he had ever seen. But what he saw was the opposite of what was there. What he saw was an obese man with plump rings of fat hanging out all over the place. He saw a man with fifty chins, and love handles big enough to hide a six-pack of beer in. He saw arms with so much flab, you couldn't see any muscle on them at all. He wiped furiously at his eye _'No, I'm not going to cry. I'm stronger than that!'_ but it was no use, he eventually just wrote down the new weight, got dressed and went to bed; silent tears still leaking from his eyes. Eventually, he silently cried himself to sleep words of self-hatred circling his head like vultures waiting for some poor injured animal to die so they can tear apart the carcass. Then again, that's exactly how he felt. How fitting.

XxXxXxXxXx Ollie's nightly check on Al XxXxXxXxXx

Oliver walked in Al's room about a minute after he fell asleep, it wasn't enough time for the tears to dry, but it was enough time for Al to go into nothing-in-heaven-hell-or-on-earth-can-wake-me-up mode. The first thing Oliver saw when he flipped on the lights the first thing he saw were the tears still on Al's face. His eyes widened at the sight of them, he walked slowly to the bed, and wiped the tears off of Al's face, tears welling in his own eyes. The poor boy must have been torturing himself with self-loathing. It made Oliver's heart break at the very thought. He ran a hand through Al's visibly thinner hair, and pulled back the blanket to see his full body, just to see how bad things had gotten. He sucked in a quick breath, he could see the boy's _bones._ He could see almost all his bones through his skin which was so much paler than it normally was. He still had a dark tan, but he looked paler than usual. Oliver pulled up the now too big t-shirt and exposed his little brother's emaciated torso and stomach. Tears began to fall down Oliver's face as he ran a hand gently up Al's ribs, feeling them beneath his fingers, like waves. He noted how the boy's hips jutted out like knives and how sunken his cheeks had become. He pulled out his phone, and pulled Al's shirt all the way off. He snapped a picture, before pulling Al's shirt back on him and turning the lights off, leaving the room. He walked downstairs and literally ran into Matt.

"Matt…" he said in a broken sounding voice. "What happened now, Oliver?" Matt asked, upon seeing the tears streaming down Oliver's freckled cheeks. Oliver pulled the picture up on his phone and gave it to Matt, not needing to say anything more. Matt gasped. Actually gasped, and his eyes were wider than the sky for a moment before he asked "What's his weight? Did you check his notebook?" Oliver shook his head, unable to utter a word without having yet another breakdown. "Just go show this to Francis." Matt said, in a voice of forced calm. "I'll check the book. I'm afraid you'll have a nervous breakdown if I let you do it." He walked past Oliver and up the stairs. Oliver tried miserably to wipe tears from his face, just to have them replaced with new ones and went to show Francis.

He walked into the living room, where Francis was smoking and reading that evening's paper. "Francis?" Oliver asked in that broken, choked up voice. Francis looked up "Hmm?" He said, grounding the cig in an ashtray. Oliver just showed him the picture, not trusting his own voice. Francis took his phone from his hand and studied the picture. His eyes widened a little and actually stayed that way. He looked up and handed Oliver back his phone "Matt's upstairs checking his notebook." Oliver said. Francis nodded, eyes actually looking sorrowful.

Matt came downstairs, pale as a sheet. "115." He said. "He's only 115 pounds." Oliver let out a loud sob and Francis looked shocked "I-I never thought it could ever get this bad…" Matt said, trailing off. "What are we going to do?" Oliver asked though heavy tears. "We're going to confront him tomorrow, and possibly admit him to a treatment center." Matt said. He sighed "That's about all we can do." Oliver nodded, sniffling. "Sounds good to me." Francis said, just a hint of sadness bleeding through his voice. On the inside, he was sobbing his heart out, but he never let anyone see what was inside. He only let people see what was on the outside. He was actually feeling horrible for Al. He wouldn't wish something like this on his worst enemy. "I'm going to bed." Oliver said in a tear choked I've-just-been-crying voice.

His mind was spinning, he couldn't believe it. It couldn't be true. The tough boy he had found and raised on his own would never let himself be reduced to this. Al had always seemed so strong. He had never seemed upset at being alone (which, come to think of it, he was alone quite often.) or hated as he had been by several countries in the past. He always took it rather well. _Too well_. Oliver realizes finally. He falls on his bed and cries himself to sleep yet again, sobs shaking his frame.

Matt walked up the stairs and sat on his bed. Oh, God, his brother really couldn't see what he was doing to himself. He really couldn't see how much harm this was causing his body and he definitely couldn't see the harm it was causing his family. Oliver was crying mess, Francis was showing emotions and Matt? Matt felt like pulling an Oliver and crying his heart out, but he couldn't. Not in front of people. A tear slipped out of his eye. He touched his cheek. It was the first time he had cried since he was a very small child. He sighed and took his hair out of its ponytail and laid down in bed to get some sleep.

XxXxXxXxXxXx The next day XxXxXxXxXx

Al got up the next morning, went to the bathroom, and had his usual morning routine. Turn the shower on, purge, take diet pills, weight self, write it down, put everything back, shower, etc. This time, when he purged, it wasn't just stomach acid and water like it normally is, there was blood too. He thought that was a little concerning, but he wasn't going to let that stop him. He took his pills, and, after swallowing them, stepped on the scale which read 114 now. (Again, don't question my logic as far as the speed of his weight loss goes. It's fanfiction. It works. That's why we write isn't it? To bend reality a little bit.) He wrote it down next to the date, and showered. After his shower, he got dressed, and grabbed his bat on the way out the door.

Oliver heard the door shut, and tears immediately came to his eyes. Francis looked at him for a moment. "Take the day off." He told Oliver after a moment had passed "I'll take care of your kills as well as mine. Confront him the second he gets home. Don't cut him any slack." Francis said it was easily the longest time he had spent speaking all week. Oliver nodded, and hugged Francis for a moment, before letting go and walking up the stairs to check Al's notebook. Francis stared after Oliver for a moment before grabbing Oliver's fairly short kill list as well as his own before heading out the door.

Oliver walked up the stairs and to the bathroom. Matt had already headed out for his kills that day, so it was just Oliver alone in the house today. He pulled the notebook out. 114. One hundred fourteen. One more pound. Oliver put the book back and curled up in the fetal position and cried.

Oliver composed himself after about a half an hour of crying and decided to make himself some tea to help calm his nerves. It was about 10:35, Al would probably be home at around three or four. Oliver would have time to plan how to confront him and make him see just what he was doing to himself which was ultimately killing himself. The way Oliver saw it, this was just a slower method of suicide. Well, whatever it was, he needed to get Al to see what he was doing with it and stop him from doing it anymore. He could go up to Al the second he got home, take him by the arm (Or hand whichever.) and drag him to the table, where he would ask flat out why he hadn't been eating, and keep talking him into corners until he got some answers. Oliver never showed it, but he could be fourceful when he wanted to be. He knew how to talk anyone into a corner if he wanted to. He had done it many times when he had been an empire and he could do it again. But then again, this was different. This was Al. The little brother he had raised since that day he found him in that field. This was the same Al who was strong enough to turn himself from a colony into a superpower within a few hundred years. He held back more tear. No, he had to be strong. For once, he had to be the strong one.

Al walked up the path to the house at about 4:30. Oliver saw him through the window right as he was taking the cupcakes he had started in order to take his mind off of Al's disorder out of the oven. He put the thing of cupcakes down on the countertop, shut the oven off, took off his oven mitts and went to the foyer to confront Al.

Al walked up the path to the house. He had been feeling a little light headed, like he might pass out. He opened the door, and saw Oliver standing there with a serious I-need-to-talk-to-you-and-you-can't-get-out-of-it look on his face. Oliver took him by the arm, ironically the same place Matt had grabbed when he dragged Al downstairs the night he had started coughing up blood. Oliver took him to the table and made him sit, he normally would have struggled, but the black spots at the edge of his vision made it kind of hard to tell where Oliver was let alone struggle against him. Oliver was saying something but Al couldn't tell what. The dark spots seemed to get closer and closer before they obscured his vision entirely, and he fell to the floor, except he didn't make it all the way to the floor, He felt two arms grab him and he was held against someone's chest. He was too weak to fight, but he did manage to twitch a little bit. A few moments passed where he tried to fight the blackness, but it was a hopeless battle. The last thing he heard was Oliver's voice call his name, sounding terrified and frantic. But he couldn't respond before his eyes closed completely and he fell limp against Oliver.

Oliver had done as he had planned, grabbing Al by the arm and leading him to the kitchen table. But, while he was trying to ask Al why he wasn't eating, he noticed how blank and unfocused Al's eyes were. "Al?" He asked, waving a hand in front of Al's face, his hand still holding his arm. "Al? Are you alright?" He asked. Al went limp soon after, and Oliver caught him, eyes widening in panic, tears pricking his eyes. Al twitched in his hold. "AL?!" Oliver asked, as Al's eyes closed all the way and he fell completely limp against Oliver's chest.

**AAAH! MY FEELS! Well, anyway, how was it? You guys liking it so far? I've gotten some great reviews so thank you so much! **

**Anyhow, Review, Follow/fav if you felt this story was worthy as always. **

**THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING! 3**


	7. Chapter 7

Oliver picked Al's boney body up, cringing at how light it was. Tears fell from his face as he put Al's limp body on the sofa and called Matt's cell.

Matt felt his phone vibrate in his pocket as he walked down the street to his next kill. He had yet to get covered in blood, but this next one had been known for playing opossum and so Matt had to beat him good and make _sure_ he was dead. He was on the right street and looking at his list to find the address when his phone started vibrating in his pocket. He pulled it out and flipped it open "Hello?" He asked "Oh, Matt, thank God you picked up!" It was Oliver and he sounded scared out of his wits "What happened, Oliver?" Matt asked "Al came home, and I tried to confront him, and he fainted. He's on the couch now, what do I do, Matt?! Is he going to be okay?! Is he going to die?! I know you have the most medical experience out of any of us. What should I do?! I'm so scared!" Matt's eyes widened. "Shut up, Ollie. Panicking won't help you at all in this scenario. You need to get him to a hospital as soon as humanly possible. With his eating disorder, he could be in serious danger. Get him to a hospital and I'll call Francis. We'll meet you there as soon as we can." Matt said and then he hung up. He flipped through his contact until he found Francis's number.

Francis was sitting on a park bench, taking a break from killing for a moment. He had finished about half of what he needed to do for that day. His phone started vibrating in his pocket so he flipped it open and said "Hello?" "Francis, Oliver called me, Al's unconscious, he's taking him to the hospital, and we need to meet him there ASAP. I'll see you when I get there." Matt said and before Francis could utter a single syllable. Francis sat there for a moment, wide eyed, before getting off the bench, and running as fast as he could toward the hospital.

Oliver put the phone back on its cradle, and picked Al's boney, limp body up again, and headed out for his car. He laid Al on the back seat and jumped into the driver's side. He speed off toward the hospital. It was sheer luck that prevented him from getting a ticket. He parked his car and pulled Al out of the backseat, running into the building. He went up to the front desk, and the nurse only had to look at him for a split second before she called in some doctors over the intercom. They came out about five seconds later with a stretcher and had to literally pry Oliver from his brother. The nurse asked what his relationship with Al was and his sniffled and told her he was his older brother. The nurse nodded in sympathy and handed him the paperwork he would need to fill out. He finished everything and was just handing it back to the nurse when Matt and Francis ran in at roughly the same time.

"Where is he?" Matt asked, sounding actually frantic for once. Oliver hopelessly pointed, tears still streaming down his face to the emergency room where they had taken Al. They walked up to the nurse and started asking questions as to how long he would be there. And she told them as much as she could, pity shining in her pretty brown eyes (Hey! That's the title to a song! Okay, I'll shut up now.) After they got all the answers they could, they went and sat down beside Oliver, who was staring into space, with tears streaming down his cheeks. And so began the long, antagonizing wait in the boring, white, overly sterile waiting room. About four hours later, a doctor approached them.

"Family of Allen F. Jones?" He asked. The little messed up group of brothers stood. He walked to them "I'm sorry that I have to tell you this, but he has an eating disorder." The doctor said. "He is also in a coma and might be for a long while." Oliver let out a particularly loud sob at that news. The doctor looked at him with pain in his green eyes. "We're unsure of what put him in the coma, but we've done all we can. Whether he wakes or not is completely up to his body now." Matt nodded. "Can we see him now?" He asked, pain bleeding through his normally tough voice. The doctor nodded and led them to a room where Al was lying in a hospital bed, with about a million different tubes doing about a million different things hooked up to him. Oliver broke down and fell to his knees sobbing. Matt's eyes widened and his jaw dropped. Francis's eyes widened, before he looked away, unable to look at Al in that state. Dr. Green, as he had told them to call him, said that he would give them a moment, before he left the room. Oliver shakily stood, and walked to the bed, embracing his brother tightly but not too tightly it felt like he would shatter if handled too roughly, like a glass doll. Matt sat in a chair on one side of Al's bed, and grabbed his hand, squeezing it tightly. Francis sat down in the other chair in the room, just trying to take it all in. Oliver was now crying into Al's hair, as the unresponsive boy just lay limp in his arms.

Al's condition did not improve over the next few days the little awkward family practically moved into the hospital. The nurses even brought out cots for them to stay with their loved one over-night. They took turns going back home to do laundry and get fresh cloths. That went on for a while, until the nurses who they were starting to get closer to offered to wash their cloths for them and bring them meals, so they were never away from their brother. Dr. Green gave them ideas on treatment centers for eating disorders they might want to admit him to once he was out of the hospital, and Oliver went to all of them, none of them looked very inviting, but he picked the one with the best recovery rate. It was their best bet. The nurses there were nice, and the patience were happy for the most part.

Some of their friends offered to take care of their kills since they knew there was no chance of them leaving Al. They accepted gratefully and gave them a list of the kills they were going to be missing each week. Different friends dropped by every so often to see the little family and wish them well. Countries they weren't even on speaking terms with dropped by to wish them well. It was actually kind of humorous to see so many cold-blooded murders dropping by the hospital on a daily basis to with the little family well and occasionally leave gifts or flowers. After six weeks of this, Doctor Green (who they now called by his first name, Jim.) told them that there was improvement in Al's condition and he may be waking up soon. It was almost Christmas and the entire little family had been praying (Yes, praying.) That Al would be awake and maybe home for Christmas. On December 24th, Al began to stir.

Oliver was sitting at the foot of Al's bed. It was about eleven 'o clock at night, and Matt and Francis were already asleep, but Oliver couldn't sleep. He really wanted Al to wake up before Christmas but it didn't seem like he would be, and then, he heard a soft moan from the bed. He looked up, Al's eyes slowly opened, he blinked a few times and then smiled. The clock struck midnight. Oliver flipped out. "OH MY GOD! AL!" He pushed a nurse call button. The scream had awoken Francis and Matt, who sat up and went to Al's side. Al looked up at them and smiled around the feeding tube in his mouth. "Al! Oh, God…" Matt said, running a hand through his brother's hair. Al looked at him clearly confused. A nurse came running in, ironically the same nurse that had been at the front desk the day Oliver had run in with Al in his arms. A particularly pleasant woman named Esther. She saw Al awake and ran to get Dr. Green. Doctor Green ran in the room moments later to see the Al awake and his little family crowded around him. Oliver hugging him, being careful not to hug him too tight, Matt crushing his hand, Francis, ruffling his hair. He looked at the clock, 12:00. Well, how about that. Esther ushered Oliver, Matt and Francis out into the hallway, so Dr. Green could take care of Al, and get him off all those tubes and such. A few minutes later, he let the three of them back into the room so they could talk to Al and try to explain things a little bit. He thought he would take it better coming from family than from a doctor he had just met a few minutes ago.

Oliver hugged him again the second he entered the room, Matt sat on the foot of his bed and Francis sat in one of the chairs. Oliver got off of him after a moment of hugging him tightly. "What happened?" Al asked. They launched into a long winded explanation of how they had found out about his disorder, and how they wanted to wait to see if he would get better on his own and how he fainted and Oliver took him to the hospital. "…And, Oh, Al, you were in a coma for six months! We weren't sure if you were going to make it or not, I was so, so scared!" Oliver finished, Hugging Al again. "What day is it and what time did I wake up?" Al asked, once Oliver let him go. Oliver laughed a little "Well, you started stirring at about 11:50 on December 24th. You woke up right before midnight. It's Christmas, Al. You woke up minutes before Christmas." Oliver said, tears still leaking from his eyes. Al laughed Matt threw his arm around his brother's shoulders and smiled. Even Francis had a tiny smile on his face. "We can talk more in the morning." Oliver said, ruffling Al's hair. "For now, you need to sleep." "Seriously, Oliver?" Al said "I've been asleep for six months and you want me to sleep more?" Oliver laughed. "You still look exhausted, Al." He said "I feel like shit." Al said, Oliver looked at him with the I-heard-that look but didn't take out his swear jar. It was Christmas and Al had just woken from a coma, he didn't need a swear jar being shoved under his nose now. The little mixed up family fell asleep shortly after that, all feeling content for the first time in six months.

**Well, that came out of nowhere. I was never expecting to write about a coma, I'm serious. This story is almost writing itself. Not that I'm complaining! **

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**THANK YOU FOR READING AND HAPPY NEW YEAR! 3**


	8. Chapter 8

**Hi guys! I have no fucking idea what the hell I'm doing anymore. This story is just writing itself, it's not even asking my permission. I don't mind though, I plan on this chapter being kind of angsty, because they finally confront Al about his disorder and admit him to a center. (Maybe?) But there's no telling where this story is going to take itself. **

The next morning, Al woke up first. He looked at the clock, it was about five in the morning. He swung his legs off the bed and attempted to stand, only to fall over and face-plant on top of Matt, who was sleeping in his cot, right next to Al's bed.

"Mmff… ow…" Matt said still half asleep. Al tried to pull himself off his brother, but six months in a coma had weakened his body to the point where he couldn't even fully support himself. He pushed himself about a centimeter off his brother, before falling back, unable to move. By now, Matt was fully coherent. He looked down at his brother, who was failing miserably at getting off him and put a hand on his back. Al looked up at him. "Ah… sorry, I just tried to get up to see if I could walk and apparently, I can't…" Al said, trying to push himself up again. Matt thought it was kind of pathetic, a person who was normally so strong, unable to even support himself. Being feed through a tube had made Al gain a little weight, but he was still very, very skinny. You could still see his bones poking through his skin like a small child trying to hide behind the drapes to escape a chore they hate or a punishment. Matt sighed, and sat up, shifting his brother so he was sitting on the floor. Then, he stood up, taking Al with him. Matt put him back in bed.

"Don't try to walk yet." He told his brother. "You're still weak from the coma and the eating disorder." "I'm going to have to talk about that, aren't I?" Al asked "Yep, but you also have to wait for those two to wake from the dead." Matt gestured toward Oliver and Francis who were still asleep, Oliver snoring loudly. "I'm surprised the snoring didn't wake me from the coma." Al said staring at Oliver. "He was terrified when you passed out that day." Matt said. "And come to think of it, it was just a few days from our birthdays wasn't it?" Guilt shone in Al's bright red eyes, something that might have happened twice in his whole life. Then he looked up at Matt. "Wait, I'm guessing you went to sleep at around One A.M, right?" He asked "Yeah, why?" Matt asked "Well, that means you only got five hours of sleep. You can go back to bed if you want. I don't want you to be tired today and bite someone's head off." Matt laughed quietly "Are you kidding? Five hours is the longest time I've spent asleep since you were admitted to the hospital." "Were you actually that worried about me?" Al asked, looking up at his brother with curious eyes. Matt took his brother by the shoulders and said "We all were. Now, should I get a nurse in here to bring you breakfast? Al looked down. "Oh…uh… No, that's fine. I don't feel like eating anything." Matt looked at him with a serious expression on his face. "Al, you really need to start eating. And we know you have an eating disorder. They officially diagnosed you with one when Oliver brought you here. I'll give you until Oliver and Francis wake up, but after that, you _have_ to start eating again." Al nodded. He knew that his brothers knew about his eating disorder. They had explained that last night. The two brothers talked until about ten 'o clock when Oliver and Francis woke up, soon afterward, four nurses walked in each carrying a trey containing breakfast for the four of them. Esther, who just so happened to be one of the nurses, checked Al's vitals and instructed him to eat as much as he could, not as much as he wanted to or as much as was on the plate (In all fairness, they were pretty big meals.) Al looked at his food with obvious conflict in his eyes. The nurses left and Oliver, Francis and Matt started focusing on getting Al to eat. Even just a little bit. "Al, I know you don't want to, but you have to eat. Even if it's just a little bit." Oliver told him, seriously for once in his life. (Although he was holding tears back.) Francis nodded, and Matt looked at him with a look that seemed to be begging him to eat. Al sighed, and poked at a vegan egg with his fork. He stabbed a tiny piece of it, and swallowed it whole. His face was the very picture of disgust. Francis shot him a meaningful look and he started nibbling at the toast a little bit. He looked at Oliver with eyes that said please-please-_please_-don't-make-me-do-this Oliver shook his head, solemnly and his eyes glanced down at Al's plate of food in a way that said _'you can't get out of it this time.'_ Al nibbled at his food and ate half the egg and maybe 1/3rd of the toast before he pushed his plate away, face with a look of complete and utter disgust on it. Oliver smiled and ruffled his hair in a friendly way, before taking the trey and setting it on a table in the room. The three other occupants of the room started noming on their own meals.

Al hated himself for eating. He hated himself so, so much. But he didn't have a choice anymore. If he flat out refused meals, they would feed him through a tube like they did when he was in a coma. He hated himself for becoming this. He hated himself for eating and he hated himself for not eating. He was just a confused mess. He looked out the window and watched snowflakes drift past the window. He just hated his life right now. But what he hated himself for most of all right now was what this was doing to his family. Francis was showing emotion. It wasn't very much but it was emotion and Oliver was a crying sobbing mess. Matt actually looked worried. Things like this only ever happened under extreme circumstances. And knowing he put them in this situation killed him inside.

Once they were done, Oliver sat next to Al's head, and stroked his hair gently. "Why, Al?" He asked, voice sounding broken "What happened? Why did you stop eating?" Matt sat in a chair next to him, and Francis sat at the foot of his bed. Al looked down "I'm not quite sure where it started to be completely honest." The heartbroken expression on his face would have sent anyone in tears, and that's just what happened to Oliver. Tears started to well in his eyes as Al told them the whole story from his point of view. Starting with the day he first skipped dinner. He left out that he had been insulted, because with Matt in the room, he just didn't think he could do it. He told them about the morning routine, and how he had been starting to feel weaker and weaker. He told them about the girl's voice in his head when he was with Matt at the store, and then he told them his account of the day he fainted. How there were black spots in his vision and he felt lightheaded and he told them about the weird sensation in his head, as if someone were sitting on his brain, he told them everything. And they listened, without saying anything, just letting him speak. Once he was done, Oliver crushed him in yet another embrace, crying into his hair like he had that day back in June when Al had been admitted to the hospital. Al hugged him back, as Oliver held him tightly in his arms, almost afraid to lose him if he let go. Oliver grabbed Matt and Francis and pulled them into an embrace. The two of them were hesitant for a moment, but then Matt put his arms around his brother in a hug. A moment later, Francis did the same. Al's eyes went wider than the sky. He just sat there, with his arms around Oliver, with Matt and Francis hugging him from either side. It was a situation he never _ever_ thought he would **_ever_** be in. But he didn't mind at all. At least he knew he was loved.

Within the next week, Al was released from the hospital, Francis had every nurse's number and Dr. Green was waving from the front of the hospital. Oliver got in the drivers' side, Francis in the passenger and Al and Matt sat in the backseat. Al fell asleep on the way home, his head falling on Matt's shoulder. Matt picked up the head (That is easily the weirdest sentence I have ever written.) and placed it in his lap, so that Al's body was stretched out on the back seat and his head was in Matt's lap. When they got home, Oliver picked Al up and carried him in the house, not having the heart to wake him (Or try to, anyway.) Once they got home, he put Al in his bed, and went to the bathroom, he came out holding the notebook, which he took to his room and put it on his desk. A painful reminder but possibly necessary to keep something like this from ever happening again **_ever_**. And he was going to make sure it **_never _**happened again in this family. He loved his family too much to let something like this happen again.

Matt walked up the stairs to his brother's room and opened the door. He walked in and sat at the foot of Al's bed and watched his brother sleep, he looked so happy like this. He didn't look like he hated himself even though Matt could see it in his eyes as he stared out the window as his family finished breakfast. He could see how much his brother hated himself in his eyes as he glared daggers at the snowflakes drifting past the window. He ran a hand up and down Al's calf for a while before standing up and making his way downstairs. He walked into the kitchen to see Oliver with the checkbook out writing a check to the eating disorder center he had chosen. Matt and Francis had only seen it as fair that Oliver got to choose the center they sent Al to since he was so broken up about Al's eating disorder. It was a place called the Harvest Eating Disorder Rehabilitation Center for Men. And it sounded like the most boring place on the face of this planet, but Oliver had been to every eating disorder recovery center within a hundred miles and this place was their best bet. Oliver put the letter on a table in the foyer and sat down at the table again.

"When will he be leaving?" Matt asked from the doorway into the kitchen "He should be leaving sometime within the next few weeks." Oliver said "I wanted to have him at home for a while before we send him off to a r-recovery center." He really didn't want to say recovery center. It sounded so bland and boring. Oliver Kirkland was many thing but he was not by any stretch of imagination boring. Several hours later, Matt, Oliver, and Francis went to bed, sleeping in a bed for the first time in six months is a wonderful, wonderful thing.

**How was it? Wow, this is my last update for all of 2013! Well, it's still 2013 here, I'm not sure about you guys. Anyway, I'm hopefully going to finish this before school starts back, if not, you guys are going to have to wait until breaks and weekends for your updates, and I go to a private school, so our breaks are different from everyone else's. **

**Review/follow/fav if you thought it was worthy. THANKS FOR READING!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Hi, guy! It's three thirty A.M on January 1****st**** and I am still typing! So, this chapter. I don't even know what it's going to have. I don't know where this stuff comes from. It just comes out of my fingers and onto the computer. I have absolutely no control over anything but the spelling and grammar. Kinda sad, I know. **

During that week at home, Oliver placed locks on all the bathroom doors to keep Al from purging, so if he wanted to shower or even use the bathroom, he had to find Matt, Oliver or Francis.

One day, Matt came home to find the lock on the bathroom door picked and heard reaching. He ran up to the bathroom, tears pricking his eyes for the first time in quite a while. He ran into the bathroom to find Al reaching into the toilet, and he also saw the bottle of diet pills on the countertop. After purging, Al looked up, and saw Matt standing there, wide eyed. Matt's eyes darted over Al's sweaty, pale face to the bile, half-digested food, and blood in the toilet. He stepped toward his brother who shied away from him _'Al,' _He thought hopelessly _'what happened to you? You were so strong once. Now, you're shivering on the floor, shying away from me. I'm going to help you. __We're__ going to help you.'_ Then, Matt did something he hadn't done willingly in a long, long time. He got down on his knees, and hugged his brother. Al's eyes widened for a second, before tears began to fall down his cheeks and he hugged his brother back. They sat there for a while, just hugging each other, until the front door opened again.

Oliver started walking up the stairs intent on taking a shower, but then he saw the padlock on the bathroom door laying a few feet away, and an unfolded paperclip next to it. He instantly knew what had happened, and he ran into the room to see Matt hugging Al, on the bathroom floor with a bottle of diet pills on the counter, a toothbrush on the floor and a mess of half-digested food, bile, and blood in the toilet. The second he saw that he knew what had happened, but that didn't stop the tears streaming down his face. He ran to the brothers and hugged them, burying his face in Al's hair. What had happened to his once strong little boy? Where did he go? Who was this and what had he done with Allen? About ten minutes of crying later, the group of three heard the front door open and close again, and Francis also walked up the stairs thinking about a shower. He saw the same thing Oliver did, and his eyes widened. He ran into the room and saw the little group of three on the floor, the waterworks on for all parties involved. Even Francis felt little tears sting his eyes. And he did something he hadn't done in hundreds of years. He walked up to his brothers, and wrapped his arms around Al. The little group of four, just sat on the floor, embracing each other. They stayed there for at least a half an hour. By this time, although it was only 5:00, Al had managed to cry himself to sleep. Silent sobs shaking his shoulders, getting Matt's shoulder wetter than Niagara Falls. He eventually fell limp against his brother, and his deep breaths told his three brothers that he was out. Oliver picked him up at this point, Francis flushed the toilet and Matt picked up the bottle of diet pills. The three brothers took him to his room, and laid him down in his bed, Oliver still had tears streaming down his face.

Matt took the bottle of pills outside and whistled for his wolf, Kuma. Kuma came. "Take these somewhere as far away as possible, bury them, and make sure no one is ever going to find them." Matt told the wolf, handing him the bottle of pills. Kuma took them, and sauntered off into the forest to bury the pills. He wasn't quite sure what was going on, but he knew it was important if his master sounded like that. Francis watched Matt give the pills to his wolf, and come back into the house. Matt shook his head, when he walked past Francis, he had a troubled look in his eyes, and Francis knew Matt was thinking about Al, and worrying about him.

Matt walked up the stairs and into his brother's room. He was twitching and whimpering as if he were having a nightmare. Matt walked over to him and picked his still too-light upper body up, and sat against the headboard of his brother's bed, holding him, whispering to him to try and relieve him of whatever was terrifying him. Al involuntarily clung to Matt, whimpering into his flannel shirt. Oliver walked in to see Matt sitting in Al's bed, with his back against the headboard, holding his brother who was clearly having a nightmare. Matt was whispering to him, and holding him, as Al clung to him in his sleep. Oliver saw Al turn his face into his brother's chest, clutching at the flannel. Oliver's eyes welled with tears again, and he walked up to the brothers, putting a hand on Al's back and rubbed it up and down the same way he always used to when Al had a nightmare as a small child. Matt ran one hand through Al's Brown-red hair and pulled him closer still. Oliver gave Matt a pat on the shoulder and left to start dinner.

Francis was thinking about what could have caused the blood Al threw up. Did he have an ulcer? Francis knew purging could cause stomach ulcers, but if it were from the purging, it would have shown up a long time ago, wouldn't it? He kept thinking. It could be that he jammed the toothbrush down his throat particularly hard and made his throat bleed. Or it could have been those goddamn diet pills. How had they not known about the pills sooner? If Al didn't tell them, they could have figured it out on their own. The pills might have corroded the lining of his stomach. What Francis guesses had happened (warning: This is probably not medically accurate AT ALL. Just saying.) Was Al took the pills, gave them a while, and had the blood pooling in his stomach, and then, he had tried to purge and the blood just came up with everything else. If that was the case, he might need to go back to the hospital, or the lining of his stomach could build itself back up. Al _was_ a nation after all, their bodies were different from humans. They reacted the same way under starvation conditions, but depending on the strength of their nation and their all-around healthiness, they could heal faster than humans could. But, then again, Al wasn't exactly healthy. They had tried, but he was still pretty far underweight. That meant, that he could potentially still be in danger of throwing up blood if the lining of his stomach was still corroded. No blood vomit had happened yet, however. If it had, Oliver and Matt would be having panic attacks. He figured the most likely option was the pills, since jamming the toothbrush on his throat too hard would have made him cough up more blood when it tickled the back of his throat, the same way it did when Matt grabbed him and dragged him into the living room that one night. Francis hardly noticed when Oliver set a plate of food in front of him and put one down for himself.

After making dinner and giving Francis his, Oliver set his own plate at his spot at the table and went to get the boys. He opened Al's bedroom door to find Matt sound asleep with Al sleeping on him. He shook Matt awake and told him it was time for dinner. It took both of them to wake Al and get him to actually get out of bed, but they managed it in the end. They took him downstairs and made him sit. It had become a routine at the dinner table to get Al to eat before any of them and then, eat their own meals. Just like in the hospital. Oliver had put a small helping of vegan lasagna on Al's plate and a half full glass of soy milk in front of him. The helping of lasagna wasn't very big, it only took up about 1/8th of the plate, but Oliver didn't want to further upset his stomach. Al stared at his food. Oliver laid a hand on his shoulder.

"I know you don't want to, but Al, you have to eat. I can't just stand here and watch you kill yourself like this." He said, tears pricking his eyes. Al sighed through his nose, and stabbed a bit of the lasagna with is fork. Putting it in his mouth and chewing it, his face was the very picture of disgust. After some coaxing from Oliver, he eventually ate the whole helping. But by no means did he like it. After he was done, he stood up and left the room "Matt, maybe you should go with him. To make sure he doesn't purge himself. Wait until he's asleep before you come back and eat your dinner. I'll put it in the fridge." Oliver said. Matt nodded and stood up and went after his brother.

He opened Al's bedroom door to find him curled up in a little ball under the covers. He sat next to Al and rubbed his back through the blanket. Al sat up and leaned on his brother. Matt put an arm around his shoulder, drawing him closer. He didn't want to send his brother off to some treatment center, but he had no choice. There was no way he could heal his brother on his own. He needed help. For once in his life, Matt needed help. And he didn't like it.

**I was listening to depressing music. I blame that. 'Nuff said. **

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**THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING! **


	10. Chapter 10

**So yeah, more updates. Life has been getting a little busier lately, so there might be small holes in between updates. Just saying. Anyhow, HAPPY NEW YEAR, GUYS! I have no resolution because I know I'm never going to keep it anyway. But eh, whatever. **

Within the next few days, Matt, Oliver, and Francis kept a close eye on Al, never letting him out of at least one family member's sight. Al had to leave for the recovery center in a few days and the mood in the house was just all kinds of depressing. It really was sad. Al didn't really want to go, and no one wanted him to go, but they all knew it was his best bet for recovery. At least, that's what Oliver, Matt and Francis thought. Al didn't like the idea of leaving his family at all. He was normally a very independent, self-sufficient person, but this disorder had weakened him to realizing that he needed his family close by to recover and pull himself out of this hole of self-hate. But he couldn't tell them that. It wouldn't matter if he did, they would still send him to a center. He hated it, but he had to go. _'Who knows?' _He thought _'Maybe it'll actually help to be around professionals who actually know what they're doing. I mean, I've already relapsed once.'_ But these thoughts did nothing to help the feeling of dread at being apart from his family when he was still this weak. His family were the only ones he could trust. They had proven that time and time again. He didn't trust anyone in the world more than his family. Maybe there was another way to get this self-hate out of his system. After purging, he always felt so much better. The tension in his shoulders left and he finally relaxed. (**_This A/N is important please read it. Trigger warning: I have decided to put a few self-harm scenes in the form of cutting in this story. If you are triggered by this, please don't go any farther. Or, at least skip over the cutting scenes. Please, this is for your sake. I don't want to be responsible for a relapse. The scene is very graphic and shows every little detail.)_** He had heard that the same effect could be achieved by a cutting your skin. He never quite understood how cutting worked, but it was obviously good for something. Maybe he could just… _'NO!' _A voice in his head screamed. _'That's a horrible idea! What are you thinking?! Stop it!'_ Funny, how that voice sounded just like Oliver. _'But, it obviously does __something__ for people, otherwise, no one would do it.' _Another voice said in his head. Al stood up, mental argument still in his head, making the tension rise again. He paced his room, trying to shut the voices in his head up. He walked over to his desk and picked up a pair of scissors. Voices in his head now screaming. His head seemed to fill with a gray fog. It felt almost like he was having an out of body. Maybe if he did it, it would shut them up? Maybe? He wasn't sure. He didn't quite want to die, so he pressed the scissors to the back of his wrist. It wasn't the most common place to put a cut, but it would have to work. He dragged the scissors up and down in a sawing motion, pressing fairly hard. Eventually, he gasped once he felt the blade cut through his skin. His shoulders relaxed and the tension faded. The blood seeped to the top of the cut in little beads at first, and then, dribbled down his arm in droplets once enough of the beads combined. The fog in his mind cleared, and he looked at his arm, a weird pleasure filled his mind. And then switched to disgust. _'What the fuck?'_ He thought, pressing a tissue to the bleeding cut. _'What just happened? Huh? Wha?' _ He pressed on the cut until it stopped bleeding, and sat down on his bed. Oliver called him for dinner, and he felt the strange need to hide his cut. He changed into a long sleeve shirt, and walked downstairs to eat dinner with his family. **_(Self-harm scene is done. I'm going to put little A/N's to mark the beginning and the end of each SH scene.)_**

Oliver scooped a tiny helping of Vegan meatloaf and an even smaller helping of leftover vegan lasagna from last night. And a half a glass of soy milk, as usual. Al stared at his food. Oliver put a hand on his shoulder and gave him 'The look.' Al sighed through his nose, and stabbed a little bit of the meatloaf and ate it slowly. After some coaxing from all three of his brothers, he ate the whole thing, and drank most of the milk. He stood up when Oliver dismissed him, and took his dishes to the sink, before going back to his room, and going to bed.

Oliver walked into Al's room and saw him sleeping peacefully. However, he didn't see the scissors on the nightstand that still had blood on them. He sat on Al's bed next to him and stroked his hair, gently, tears pricking his eyes as he thought of what Al was going through. He picked him up and held him the same way Matt had yesterday. Al involuntarily snuggled closer. Oliver knew he would never do that if he were awake. He sat there, thinking and reflecting on all that had happened in the past six months, and just pulled Al closer. He ran a hand through the red-brown hair, and sighed, his breath blowing through Al's hair like a gentle breeze does through grass. After a while, he put his brother back (That sounded so weird.) And stood up to go, turning the light off as he went. He walked downstairs and sat next to Matt in the living room.

"How is he?" Matt asked, looking up from the book he was reading. "Sleeping like a brick." Oliver replied, running a hand through his hair "I'm still really worried about him. I don't know how he's going to take being in a recovery center." Matt looked at him for a moment before putting a bookmark in his book and setting it on the coffee table "He'll be fine." Matt tells him "He's tough. He's Al, for fuck's sake. He'll be fine." Oliver looked at him with the 'did you seriously just say that' look and held out his swear jar. Matt dropped some change into it. "Well, I guess you're right." Oliver said with a sigh. "He'll be okay. He has to be. None of us would ever be the same without him." Matt nodded. The both stared into space for a long moment. Oliver stood up and went to the kitchen to make cupcakes and get his mind off things.

Matt was very concerned. He could see how much tension Al had in his shoulders. He was genuinely concerned for his brother. He wanted Al to be okay. He wasn't quite sure what he would do without his brother. He wanted to be next to Al every second of every day to make sure he wasn't doing anything drastic, but he couldn't be. That hurt more than anything he had ever experienced before. After a long moment of thinking and worrying about Al, he picked his book back up and started reading where he had left off. Reading always relaxed him and helped take his mind off things. Relaxation, to Matt, was one of the biggest keys to being happy. If you weren't relaxed, you were stressed, and that was always a bad thing. Nothing good ever comes from tension or stress.

Al slept soundly, dreaming about his disorder. He was standing in the bathroom toothbrush in hand "NO, AL, STOP!" Oliver's voice called. Al turned around Oliver was standing in the doorway, looking frantic. Al looked from Oliver to the brush back to Oliver again. A few seconds later, Matt and Francis appeared behind Oliver, both looking slightly frantic. Al looked back down at the toothbrush, but it wasn't a toothbrush anymore **_(Self harm scene)_** It was a knife. He looked down and saw that his hand had driven it into his wrist, and dragged it down. He had no muscle control any more. He was twitching and convulsing in an attempt to control his body, but it was no use. Eventually, he dropped the knife, and slid down the wall to the floor, blood spattering the floor. **_(Self harm scene ended for the most part. No more blade on skin contact. Just blood.)_** His three brothers rushed forward, Matt holding his head into his lap, Oliver clutching the hand on his uninjured wrist and Francis getting down on his knees, with a hand around his injured wrist in an attempt to stop the bleeding, but it was no use. He had cut too deep. Everything started to get blurry and his eyelids fell half lidded. Matt shook him gently "No, Al, don't fall asleep. Please, don't fall asleep." He pleaded Francis was wrapping the wrist in gauze Oliver had pulled from the first-aid kit they kept in the bathroom. "AL!" Matt screamed as Al's eyes slid shut. Al was suddenly sitting on the tiles next to his family, as they shook his body, trying to wake him. "NOOOO! AL!" Oliver screamed, slapping his face, gently. "No… NonononoNO!" Matt was crying at this point, cradling Al's head gently "Al please, please, please, please, _please_ wake up." He said softly. A tear fell down Francis's face, he wiped it away, biting his lip hard; drawing blood. At this point, Oliver was pushing up and down on his chest, trying to start his heart again, but it was no use. Why? Why did he have to go out like this?

Al woke, gasping, covered in sweat. He turned on a light, and lay there for a moment, trying to calm himself down. He lay there shaking in fear for a long while, fists gripping the sheets, breathing hard, almost hyperventilating.

Francis couldn't sleep. After about an hour of lying there, unable to sleep, he decided to go downstairs and find the sleeping pills. But, when he walked past Al's room he saw the light on and heard heavy, labored breathing coming from inside. He opened the door, and saw Al sitting up in bed, covered in sweat and nearly hyperventilating. He walked in and sat next to Al on the bed, and put a hand on his shoulder, remaining silent the whole time. Al leaned against him, his breaths beginning to slow. Francis put his arm around his brother's shoulder and remained silent. After Al's breaths started calming down, Francis asked "What happened?" Al relayed the dream, eyes looking haunted, gaunt face pale and sweat still dripping down the side of his face. Francis rubbed a hand up and down Al's arm. "If you ever feel like that, come find one of us." He said, poker face still in place. "I know. I just. It was terrifying." Al admitted. That was easily the first time in two hundred years Al had admitted to fear. Francis nodded. "Should I go get Oliver or Matt?" He asked "They know you better than I do." "No, I should be fine." Al tells him "Thanks, Francis." Al says. Francis nods, standing up, and leaving the room.

**So, the self harm thing. I wanted to put trigger warnings on all the self harm scenes, because I know how sensitive a topic it can be. I also wanted people who are a little squeamish about that kind of thing to still be able to read this as well as former self-harmers. So, I put A/Ns on all the self harm scenes.**

**Review/follow/fav whatever if you felt it was worthy THANKS FOR READING!**


	11. Chapter 11

**Hi guys! More updates! This story, I don't even… Wow. I have no idea what the fuck this story is doing. It's writing itself, it seems. Idk. But, people seem to like it a lot, so I'm going to keep writing it. I don't think there will be anymore SH in this story, but who know, I might make another story about Al with a self-harm issue, and how the 2p FACE helps him through that… Kind of a side story maybe. If it turns multi-chapter it probably won't be quite as long as this one though…**

Al told Francis to tell Oliver and Matt about his dream. He didn't think he'd be able to tell it again. Francis had just nodded, poker face forever in its place. When he told them, Oliver glomped a very shaken looking Matt, tears streaming down his face, sobs wracking his shoulders. The next time Oliver saw Al, he tackled him in a hug, sending him to the carpet. The next time Matt saw him, he actually hugged him too, but didn't tackle him. No one in the family had been seeing much of Al lately, he spent most of his time holed up in his room with his iPod. Once, when Oliver took him out, Matt checked his iPod and listened to some of the newer playlists that were on there. They contained depressing songs that made Even Matt want to cry. They were all songs about eating disorders and a few about self harm, which Matt found very worrying. Well, Al went to the recovery center the next day, and they never gave their patients anything that could be used as a cutting tool, due to the risk they could turn to cutting to escape the stress of not being able to starve/purge themselves. And Al was going to the recovery center the next day. Matt hated it. He hated not being able to see his brother more than once a week and he hated him having to go to the care some a group of doctors and nurses he had never even meet, but he had to trust them, and he had to trust Al to not do anything stupid while he was in there. He stood up, and went downstairs, to read until his brothers got back. Francis was down there, smoking and reading. They had been doing a lot of reading lately. Probably to get their minds off of Al and his problems.

Dinner was a quiet, sad affair that night. Al ate without complaint, and went to the living room to spend the last few hours he had home with his family. They talked well into the night, and Al ended up falling asleep on the couch. Matt picked him up and Oliver and Francis followed him to Al's room. Matt sat against the head board, holding Al's upper body against his chest. Oliver sat next to the brothers, rubbing a hand up and down Al's back just like that one night just a few days ago. Francis sat on the foot of Al's bed, his feet in his lap. Al had changed. He had changed so, so much. He was timid now, and sad all the time. Francis guessed that it was because he didn't have to hide it anymore. They already knew, so he could unload it onto them. But that made him feel guilty. Francis could see it in his eyes. He felt guilty for troubling them. He rubbed a hand up and down Al's calf. He really wasn't a problem to them though. Francis just wished he knew that. Knew that, as much as he didn't want to admit it, he loved him, all of them did. If they didn't, they wouldn't be sitting here, holding him as he slept, trying to make the most out of the last few hours they had with him. He was being admitted to the treatment center at around 3:00 the next afternoon. It hurt. It really did. They didn't want to see him go, but they didn't have a choice anymore, there was no way they could keep an eye on him 24/7. Soon, the other three members of the little messed up family fell asleep. Matt's head falling back against the headboard of the bed, Oliver leaning on the brothers, each of them hugging Al. And Francis, with his head tilted back against the wall the bed was pushed up against. They sat there, holding their brother, who they wouldn't be able to see more than once a week for the undecided time he would spend in the treatment center. The center only released patients they deemed healthy enough to stop purging or starving or whatever.

The next morning, Al woke up and opened his eyes to find himself in both Matt and Oliver's arms, with his feet in Francis's lap. He sighed sadly, upon realizing what today was and what he had to do today. He looked at the clock. It was Noon. He snuggled closer to Matt and hugged him around the chest, burying his face into Matt's soft, flannel shirt. About an hour later, Matt woke up and saw Al clutching him, He ran a hand through his brother's brown hair, causing Al to look up. They talk quietly for several hours about anything they can think of. Anything except their current situation. After a few hours, Oliver and Francis woke. Oliver got off of them, and Francis got out from under Al's legs.

"Well," Oliver said in a sad voice "I'll go make some breakfast." Francis followed him out. Al and Matt got up soon after that, and went downstairs to wait for breakfast. Al ate without complaint, and the little family spent the rest of the day sitting in the living room together, until 2:00, when Al had to go. Oliver hugged him, sobbing, and Francis gave him a friendly pat on the back, before Al and Matt walked out the door.

The hour long drive to the recovery center was silent and depressing. Once they got there, they had to stay in a waiting room for a while before Matt could register Al. Once he was signed in, Matt hugged him one last time, burying his face in Al's brown hair. "I'll see you soon." Was the last thing he told his brother, before a nurse led Al away to get a physical exam. Matt turned to the nurse sitting at the front desk. "Take care of him." He said before turning on his heel and walking away.

When Matt returned home, he heard Oliver's sobs from upstairs, and decided to go sit with him. He thought that maybe, it would help distract him from the fact that Al was gone and wouldn't be home for a long time. He walked up the stairs, and found Oliver sitting in Al's room, hugging his pillow and crying. Matt sat on the edge of the bed. Oliver looked up and saw him. He sobbed and hiccuped for a few seconds, before throwing himself into Matt's arms, crying into his chest, hands fisting the back of his shirt. Matt caught him, and just sat there with a distraught Oliver in his arms. He had been wrong, it didn't help; it only made it worse. Tears he didn't know he had been holding back started streaming down his face. Upon feeling tears landing in his hair, Oliver cried harder, sobs shaking both of them. Matt just sat there, praying to God above that his brother would be alright. He knew the people at the treatment center knew what they were doing. They had all been to college, they were professionals. But that knowledge did nothing to ease his conscious as he thought of Al and how lonely he could be right now. He knew how upset Al got when lonely. Al was a hardass, but once you got to know him well enough, you learned the little signs he dropped whenever he was lonely or sad. And Matt knew how much it tore him up inside when people didn't pick up on those. Having been stuck with him since Al was born, Matt knew how to tell when he was sad or lonely. He also knew what usually helped his brother, the doctors didn't. But he had to trust them. He had no other option. The door opened and Francis walked in. He sat on the bed next to them, a little sadness showing in his eyes, but not saying a word. Eventually Matt and Oliver fell asleep on Al's bed, and Francis fell asleep next to them.

XxXxXx The next morning XxXxXx

Oliver woke up first. He pulled himself out of Matt's embrace and sat on the bed thinking for a while. He really couldn't believe Al was going to be gone. And he didn't have the slightest clue how he was doing or if he would be okay. He went downstairs to make breakfast.

XxXxXxXxX with Al right after Matt dropped him off XxXxXxXxXxXx

Matt sat with Al until the nurse came. Matt told him that he would 'see him soon' right after his finished hugging Al. As Al was being led away he heard his brother tell another nurse to "Take care of him." That was the last time he heard his brother's voice before the door closed. The nurse led him to a room and gave him a physical exam, after putting him in a hospital-like gown. You know, those skimpy little things that leave your ass wide out in the open for the whole world to see? Yeah, like those. And then told him the doctor would 'see him shortly.' The doctor came in about twenty minutes later and asked him some questions with a blank expression on his face. He checked a few boxes and made a few notes based off of Al's answers and left the room again. Al sat there for a while, and then the nurse came back. She smiled, sweetly.

"I will take you to your room now, Mr. Jones." She said, leaving the room with Al following. They walked down the hallways which had a few other men most all of them as sickly thin as Al. Some of them though, they were his worst nightmare. Huge men, who must have weighed at least 400 pounds. That made him cringe just slightly. The nurse took no notice, and eventually led him to a room in the anorexia ward of the treatment center. The room was painted a beautiful shade of midnight blue, with royal blue curtains pulled back to reveal a courtyard with high stone walls. Some men were sitting around the courtyard doing nothing essentially just sitting, or reading. It was a beautiful view. The yard had beautiful, well taken care of, dark green grass. There were colorful flower beds dotted along the wall, which curved, making the yard circular. There were a few magnolia trees in the yard and one big oak tree that casted shade over a large portion of the yard. Beyond the wall, you could see a forest of coniferous trees such as pines and furs and beyond that, the lake, glinting in the late afternoon sunlight. The bed in his room had light blue sheets and a royal blue comforter. There was a dresser, which Al guessed was full of more hospital-like gowns, since that's all he saw people wearing on his way here. There a book case with some old classics like Pride and Prejudice and Great Expectations. As well as a desk with one of those cool looking green lamps sitting on it. It looked just like any other bedroom. The nurse handed him some papers. "These papers tell you everything you will ever need to know about our facility. It would be best to look over them now. Someone will come get you when it's time for dinner." The nurse said, leaving the room. Al sat down on the bed and started to flip through the stapled papers. Maybe, just maybe. This place wasn't going to suck as bad as he thought it would.

XxXxXx With the rest of the family starting where we left off with them last XxXxXxX

The whole family was in a sad, somber silence during breakfast. Oliver had mixed feelings about the whole thing. He had never wanted Al to leave, he hated that he couldn't be with him when he was hurting like this, but he didn't want him to get worse. He started baking more cupcakes, to try and get his mind off of the less than favorable situation he found himself in at the moment. He had made at least a million as of now. He just wished Al were home. Or at least in a place where he could see him and help him get better.

Matt got really lonely once Al left. He would sit on Al's bed for hours, holding his pillow which still smelled like him. That scent of cheap cologne, tofu, and his shampoo, since well it _was_ a pillow. It might sound like a disgusting smell, but to Matt, it was the best thing he had ever smelled at the moment. He just wished he were holding his brother instead of his pillow.

Francis was sitting on the back porch, chain-smoking. He had been smoking and drinking a lot more since Al left. Al was a good kid, he really was. And Francis cared about him, and wished he were home. He always felt better when he knew his family was safe. Preferably at home. But beggars can't be choosers as the old saying goes. Francis knew Al was safe. He had to trust the doctors to know what they were doing. Did he like trusting the life of a family member to a group of doctors he had never met or even seen? Not one fucking bit. But he had no choice. None of them had a choice anymore.

**Goddamn, that was a long one. Sorry I didn't update yesterday. I was really tired from staying up late all week, and I start school back in three days, so I have to get my sleep schedule back on track. I'm sorry, guys but you're going to have to start waiting until weekends for updates. And even my weekends can be a little hectic. **


	12. Chapter 12

**Hi! MOAR UPDATES! Yeah, I'm not really sure what else to say in this A/N… Idk. Maybe I will go through with that SH fic idea. I'd have to update them one at a time though. And the SH fic would probably be a lot more graphic than this one because of the blood and just how violent self-harm can be sometimes. Maybe I should start that tonight, throw a couple ideas around. IDK. **

Dinner at the recovery center was fairly uneventful. They gave you a set amount of food based off of what eating disorder you had and how far along you were in your recovery. Al ate his food without complaining, since he knew it would be just like home if he refused. They would probably get it into him somehow. No matter what he did. After dinner, they were split up into groups of about five to ten people and taken to separate rooms for group therapy. It wasn't like how you see it in AA where everyone sits in a circle and the therapist gives them things to discuss amongst themselves. The therapist asked them questions, and they answered based off of their personal experience. Al didn't say much, since it was his first group therapy session, he just wanted to see how things would work out first. See just what happened in these group therapy sessions anyway. They never made him stand up and introduce himself, either. He liked that. They let him get to know the other men at his own pace. After the therapy session, they were allowed some time to themselves. They could do whatever they wanted to. Go back to their room to take a nap, go out to the yard and read a little whatever. Al decided to go out to the yard and just sit and think. Just relax a little bit. He sat out there and met some of the people they asked for his story and he gave it to them and they told him theirs. It was interesting hearing all those stories. One guy was in college and was getting picked on for his weight, another wasn't sure what started it, but went a whole two and a half weeks without food before he fainted and his girlfriend took him to the hospital. One guy's parents had figured out when they came over for Christmas. Another one had an older brother who figured it out when he found his food diary. Al explained his disorder to them and they said he had something called EDNOS, eating disorder not otherwise specified. And that it was only EDNOS because he purged without binging. They probably put him in the anorexia ward because that's where it was easiest to keep him. He told them he had no plans on purging or starving again and asked if that would get him out of there faster. They said it would, most of them had been in there for several years because they just couldn't get better. They didn't have the will power to. Al and his new found friends stayed out there for a while before the little group broke up to go back to their rooms and get some sleep.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

Life with the rest of Al's family felt dismal and sad. They all wanted Al to come home, but knew there wasn't much chance of it happening anytime soon. They knew how he got when he had his mind set on something. The visiting day was in two days. Visiting day was always every Saturday. It was currently Thursday, so they would only have to wait for two days. Knowing that helped a little bit, but didn't do much. Time seemed to slow down and then Saturday finally came

XxXxXxXx

Al's routine in the treatment center was generally Wake up, get physical exam, get breakfast, go to one on one therapy, have free time until lunch, more one on one therapy, have free time until dinner, group therapy, break, more group therapy and have free time until lights out at 10. The center wasn't the worst place he had ever been in his life, but it definitely wasn't the worst. The doctors said he was improving by quite a bit. That was good. He wanted them to say that. His motivation being seeing his family again. The preset alarm clock woke him at seven the next morning, and for once in his life, he didn't throw the horrible screaming thing out the window. He simply turned it off, and got dressed in one of the ridiculous gown like things. He knew the second he woke that morning what would be happening. He would be seeing his family again. It had only been two days but it felt like two hundred years. He looked at the packet, which had been placed on his desk. Visiting day lasted all day. You could spend the entire day with your family. To Al, that sounded like heaven. A nurse opened his door. "Good morning, Mr. Jones. I will take you to your visiting room." She said. Each patient was assigned a room where they would be meeting with their family. Al was on the first floor room 105. He walked in the room and was immediately glomped by Oliver, who was frantic with happiness. The hug pushed him back into the nurse who let out an indigent huff and walked away. Oliver was squeezing him as tightly as he could, waterworks already turned on as he hugged his little brother. After some prying and coaxing, Oliver let him go and Matt hugged him. Times like this were the only times Matt ever hugged his brother. The times when Al was stuck at the bottom and hurting to the point where he might actually die. Matt kept all these things in mind as he hugged his brother tightly. He still smelled like tofu. They must have had vegan options for the meals. Al's hair smelled like a strange mixture of tofu, shampoo, and antiseptic. But then again all medical facilities smell like antiseptic. After Matt let him go, Francis ruffled his hair, and hugged him briefly.

"How have you been, Al?" Oliver asked, making Al sit down on the couch in the room as he sat next to him. Matt sat on his other side, and Francis sat across from them in a chair. Al told them a lot about the facility. His routine, the people he had met, how they said he was recovering faster than most. He asked them how things had been, and they talked about recent kills and things that had happened. They had kept their kill lists fairly short; no one felt like sheading as much blood as they normally did. No one felt like they normally did. Oliver was baking nearly nonstop, Francis was smoking nearly nonstop, and Matt had taken to hiking more and more often, to get away from his brother's problem. There was a silence as Oliver hugged Al again, pulling him close and burying his face in Al's red-brown hair. There was silence for a moment, and then Matt joined the hug, and Oliver pulled Francis in. The hug broke up after a while, and Oliver asked to see the place a little better. Al agreed, and took them to the yard first. Oliver's eyes widened when he saw the beauty of the place everyone simply called The Yard. It had been mentioned in the reviews he had read, but he hadn't thought it would be anything like this. They sat under the oak tree and talked and caught up and Matt made fun of Al's ass being displayed to the whole world through the hospital gown like thing they made him wear. That earned him a smack upside the head from Al. He noticed with some measure of happiness that the smack was a lot stronger than it was a week ago. There wasn't much improvement but there was some. Oliver also wanted to see Al's room to make sure it was something he could approve of. Al took them to his room and Oliver liked it the second he saw it. A bed sat in the middle of the room, a desk and bookcase against one wall, with a dresser against another. There was a large window that looked over the yard and allowed Al to see beyond the wall to the forest and the lake which was sparkling in midmorning sun. Matt could see the approval shine in Oliver's blue eyes. They went back to the yard after that and sat under the huge oak tree, talking and discussing things. They went to the cafeteria when a nurse came and got them and sat with Al. He still wasn't eating nearly enough, but it was more than he was at home. Al also told them about the different types of people who were in the center and about how their emotions ranged. There were your very emotional people who would have random breakdowns in the hallways or during meals, there were your people with normal emotions who were hardly noticed at all, there were your emotionless, blank-eyed, poker faced people who acted an awful lot like zombies or Francis. And there were your people like Al who just watched the whole thing play out with wide eyes, not getting involved and slightly scared of the amount of emotion or lack thereof from the other people. Al also told them about how much being away from home sucked and how he wanted to be back there ASAP as well as how they said he had something called EDNOS as well as what it stood for. "Well, you should be coming home fairly soon, shouldn't you?" Oliver asked "You're recovering fairly quickly, according to most doctors and nurses we've talked to." Al nodded "I hate being like this. And I can't believe it took me this long to realize how much I hate being like this. I feel like a zombie, but I'm scared of the ones who act like zombies." He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck "I really want to be at home right now." Oliver put a hand on his back. "Soon. You'll come home as soon as you can re-train yourself to eat normally again." Al smiled and Matt changed the subject, sensing the awkwardness dripping from the air. They sat out there talking and enjoying each other's company, being a family for the first time in a while. Well, they're psychopathic serial killers; they don't spend much time together. They ate dinner together and the nurses had to literally drag Matt, Oliver and Francis out of the facility by the ankles. Al smiled when he saw that. His family really cared enough about him to want to stay with him that much. It touched him deep inside and he felt warmth spread through him. He went out to the yard again, and laid there in the soft, green grass, thinking things over. His family really _did_ care about him. Otherwise, why would they have come? Al always had issues with people knowing him too well and when they did know him well, he had a fear of their opinions. He would think they hated him even though they had proven time and time again that they didn't. And every time they proved that they didn't hate him, it made him feel a warm feeling deep down in his chest and stomach. He guessed it was the feeling of being loved. He wanted to always feel like that. Maybe, when this was all over he would. He walked back to his room after the sun set. He laid in his bed, with the light on, reading and thinking at the same time, which is something he thought was impossible outside of school. But anyway, he laid there, reading, and thinking and just reminiscing his life and his self-worth and how he planned to change it. He looked over at his clock, and turned the lights out, before a nurse could come in and reprimand him for it. He fell asleep shortly afterward. Feeling warmth and happiness deep in his chest.

Nothing particularly interesting happened that Sunday, but on Monday, it was announced that patients would be allowed to call family members whenever they wanted to. Al was elated at the news. He would finally be able to get in touch with Oliver, Matt, and Francis again. It felt amazing. During his next break, he went back to his room to find a phone now set on his desk. Apparently, there had been a group of huge fundraisers for the clinic and they had raised so much money, they had been able to get one of the best phone deals in the country and equip each room with its own phone. Al thought back to what Oliver had told him about their schedules. Then, he realized Matt was taking today off. He dialed Matt's cell number from memory, and it rang three times.

"Hello?" Matt said in his normal, bored tone "Hi, Matt." Al said, grinning from ear to ear. "Al! You escaped? Oliver's going to kill you when he finds out." Matt tells his brother "I didn't escape. They apparently had a huge fundraiser, got a calling plan, and equipped all the rooms with phones." Al said, still grinning. He couldn't believe it. It was the greatest thing that had happened to him in years. He was so happy. With this, he could contact anyone in his family if he was feeling like shit and get exactly what he needed, when he needed it. Matt was grinning, Al could hear it in his voice. His own grin widened at that. The two brother's talked for a few hours until Al had his next group therapy session, or was it a one on one session. He couldn't remember. He promised to call later that night, though and he asked what time Oliver and Francis would be home. Matt told him that they would probably be home at around six or seven. Al smiled "I'll see you soon, Matt, bye." He hung up.

Matt stared at the phone after his brother told him he'd see him soon. What had he meant by that? Was he planning on escaping and coming home? That was a terrible Idea. Harvest (which is where the treatment center was) was at least a three day walk away. Maybe his brother was just trying to remind him that he was recovering quickly. That was most likely it. Matt knew Al well, and knew how to tell what he meant from his tone of voice. His voice didn't sound like he was scheming or excited. It sounded…Happy. Al sounded genuinely happy. Happiness was an emotion Matt hadn't heard in his brother's voice in years. He hadn't heard Al happy since they were kids. It wasn't an unwelcome change though. He had always tried to make his brother happy, but had never been quite sure how. He never had been very good at making people happy…

At around six 'o clock, Oliver walked in followed by Francis. After dinner, at about seven thirty, Al called again. And this time, it was Oliver who answered the phone.

Al called home again at around seven thirty, and heard Oliver's voice on the line "Hello?" "Hey, Oliver." He said ever so casually "OH MY GOD, AL!" He said, jumping about three feet in the air "How did you get a hold of us? You didn't escape did you? So help me, Al, if you escaped I will kill you slowly. With my knives." Oliver said. The threat had no effect on Al, it was something used many times during his childhood. Oliver was always threatening Al and Matt with death by knife when they were kids. Al laughed

"Calm your tits, cupcake freak. I didn't escape." He went on to explain the fundraiser and the phones and everything that had happened. Oliver had put him on speaker so that Francis could hear him. "Oh, Al, that's great! We'll actually be able to get in touch with you!" He said joy shining in his voice. Al smiled, feeling that warmth in his chest again. It had been there ever since he had called Matt earlier that day. After hours of talking, and just being a family, both parties hung up, and Al went to bed, happy.

**So, how was it? I really like writing this story, and will definitely continue it. As far as the speed of his weight loss. I plan on changing that. I wasn't expecting this story to turn out being this long, or this many people to like it. So, one of these weekends, I'm going to stay up till 4 in the morning on a Friday and work on it all day on Saturday, and change things around a bit. I'll probably do that this weekend or the next. I'm glad you guys like this!**


	13. Chapter 13

**Well, more updates. I'm actually going to start typing these things during study hall, so there might be updates during the school week. Which is especially helpful since I have soccer, clarinet and Taekwondo after school which keeps me fucking busy. And let's not forget how much physics homework sucks…and I think there would be a bigger chance of me updating more often if certain friends of mine quite bugging me about it every second….-_-**

Al was quickly on his way to recovery, but there was something still stuck on his mind. He was still slightly depressed, no matter how much he surrounded himself with everything positive he could think of. He still felt fat, and stupid and worthless no matter what he told himself or what the people around him told him. It was living Hell. He just wanted thing to go back to the way they were before. Before this depression got a hold of him, before he starved himself, before all of this. He wanted it to stop. He didn't trust any of the doctors enough to tell them, although his voice of reason (funny how that voice sometimes sounded like Matt and sometimes it sounded like Oliver.) was telling him it was the best thing to do. He didn't trust these doctors, and if Al doesn't trust someone he won't talk to them. He knew he should call home, but he wasn't sure how whoever was on the line would take it. He sat at his desk for hours staring at the phone _'Oh, suck it up! _He told himself_ It's not like you're asking someone out on a date! Just talk to them. They'll take it how they take it._' He slowly picked up the phone and dialed the home number.

Matt looked up from his book when he saw the phone ringing. He checked the caller I.D and saw it was Al's number from the clinic. He didn't hesitate picking up the phone and greeting his brother. "Hello?"

"Hey, Matt." Al said still trying to steal himself to tell Matt how he was still depressed "Hi, Al. How are you?" There was a moments' silence. "Uh, about that…" Al trailed off, hoping his brother got the idea and would help him. Matt sighed "You're still depressed, aren't you?" He asked, keeping his emotion at a minimum. "I…Yeah." Al finally admitted. "I have still been feeling bad. I just can't talk to these doctors. I just can't. "He said sounding desperate Matt sighed through his nose, closing his eyes for a moment "Al, if you needed to talk to someone why _not _the doctors? They haven't exactly given you a reason not to trust them, right?" Al stared out the window to the forest and the lake beyond "I just can't. I don't know why but I just…I can't." He said, hopelessly. Matt stood up, when he heard a car pull in and looked out the window. It was Oliver. "Hey, Oliver just pulled in the driveway. Do you want to talk to him?" Matt asked "I don't care which one of you I talk to, just as long as I talk to one of you." Al said, running a hand down the cold glass of his window. A Cardinal, bright red, just like Al's eyes landed on the window ledge outside the window. On Matt's side, the door opened and Oliver walked in. "I'll put you on speaker, that way you can talk to all of us." Matt told him and pressed the speaker button on the phone. Just then, Oliver walked in "Hi, Matt. He said. Is that Al you're talking to?" He said, dragging a body toward the basement. "Yeah, he needs to talk to us." Oliver's expression immediately switched from carefree to serious "I'll be back in a minute." He said, dragging the body down the stairs. He came back up again and looked at the phone "Is it on speaker?" He asked, unlocking a cabinet, putting the bottles of poison in and relocking it again "Yeah." Matt said Oliver walked over "Hey, Al. Are you alright?" He asked "Yeah, physically." Al said and that was the only answer Oliver needed. He sighed, and his eyes started tearing up _again_. "Al, it's going to be okay. What do you think is making you depressed?" He asked, sorrow bleeding through his voice. "I think it's just how hopeless the people here are. They either have too much emotion or not enough. It's painful to watch. I hate being here like this and I don't know if I can or should help them or if I should just let the doctors handle it or what I should do." He said, pain in his voice "I think the problem is that you don't feel in control." Matt said. "You feel like you have no control over what's going on around you and you're not sure whether to take control or not." Al heard some clattering in the background. "Great, you've got Oliver baking again." Matt said rolling his eyes Al laughed a little. Of course that's how Oliver would handle it. Bake poisonous cupcakes for hours until you can't think of anything else. Then, he heard the door open again. It must have been Francis. He was the only one who wasn't home yet. Francis walked in the kitchen and saw Matt with the phone and Oliver baking more fucking cupcakes with more fucking tears in his eyes. "It's Al and he's told Oliver something depressing." He said "Yeah." Matt replied. "Hey, Francis." Al said and only got "Hmm…" as a response. But that was normal for Francis. He dropped his keys on the counter and grabbed a bottle of wine out of the pantry; he uncorked it and went to the living room, not even bothering with getting a glass. "I'd better go stop him from drinking himself into a coma." Matt said "Al, you need to stop trying to take control. In the situation you're in, you can't take control. I know you hate it, but you have to trust the doctors and let them help you. And besides, once they see you fit to, they'll let you leave the center and come back home." With those parting words, Matt hung up and went to try to wrestle the bottle of Francis.

Al wondered about those words as he sat on his bed, looking out the window at the setting sun over the forest and the lake. Maybe it _was_ time to start being a little more trusting. Although other people had hurt him in the past, maybe these doctors weren't that kind of people. He always put up a wall when he met someone. A cold, aloft, violent wall. It was what everyone saw, a serial killer, a violent, dangerous person. But that wasn't who he really was. That was just what everyone saw. Who was he really? He wasn't sure. But he knew he would find out eventually. You can't just go your whole life without knowing yourself, that couldn't be right. Could it? He stared out the window, as the sun set over the lake, and a group of birds flew from the trees. He thought of home, the only place where he could truly be himself. And even there, he realized, he had been putting up the wall even to his family. He knew they could see past that wall, and he knew they thought the wall was bad. Al looked out the window. The Cardinal was still sitting on the window ledge outside the window that overlooked the enclosed yard. The bird looked around with those twitchy little head motions birds always seem to have. Then, it spread its wings and flew away.

Oliver was baking vanilla and cyanide cupcakes in the kitchen, he heard Matt and Francis fighting in the living room. Matt was trying to wrestle the bottle from Francis. Well, it was keeping both of them busy. He sighed and took the cupcakes out of the oven. He grabbed the blood and frosting mix and frosted the cupcakes, before leaving them to cool on the counter top. He looked in the cabinet to look for more cupcake mix. He had just used the last box. He started out the door, grabbing his keys on the way out the door. He walked out the door, without telling Matt or Francis where he was going. He went out to his car and started it, driving off to the store. He started thinking about Al. Would he actually take the advice to go talk to a doctor? And if he did, how much would he actually tell them? Oliver was severely worried. He was afraid of what Al had been doing to himself and to his own mind. It was very, very concerning. He parked and stepped out of the car, normal smile gone, eyes clouded over in thought. He saw movement out of the corner of his eye and looked to his left to see a bright red Cardinal as bright red as Al's eyes land about ten feet from him. The bird looked at him for a moment, before cocking its head just slightly and flying away into the sunset. He watched it fly off into the distance before entering the store, and grabbing a cart. He grabbed about twenty times the amount of ingredients he would normally buy. He loaded the car and started driving home again. He looked into the sky before starting the car and saw that same Cardinal flying fairly low in the sky. He started the car and drove home, after putting the ingredients in the cupboards and cabinets, he started for the basement lab to mix up some more odorless, tasteless poison to use in the cupcakes. He walked past the torture chamber and heard a dying moan from inside. Oh, that's right. He had been meaning to kill that one for some time now. He had forgotten. He sighed. He didn't feel like stabbing today, and the color would only remind him of Al's eyes as they were the same color as blood. He walked past, deciding to let the poor soul die of dehydration. He went to the lab, and started mixing things up, according to a twenty year old formula he had discovered. It hadn't been shared with anyone. Completely secret from the outside world. Hidden behind the walls of his lab and only he knew what it said.

Matt wasn't having much luck with Francis. When he tried to take the bottle, it was thrown at him, missing his head by inches, and shattering on the wall, spraying red wine and glass in all directions. He knew Francis wasn't very happy about Al's condition and even more unhappy that he couldn't see him personally during the recovery process. But Matt also knew that this was an unhealthy way of letting that out. Francis, sat there, staring at his hands for a moment before standing and going outside to chain smoke some more. Matt decided it would be best to leave him alone for now. When he got like this, he needed some time alone. There was no denying that. Matt got out the mop and a washrag to clean the wine and glass off the floor and wall. Once he was done, he put everything back, throwing the washrag in the laundry room to clean later. He looked out the window and saw a Cardinal that was the exact color of Al's eyes fly past. He knew Francis saw it too, because he could see him through the living room window and saw his head follow the bird's path through the air. It landed on the fence surrounding the back yard and sat there for a moment, before flying away into the sky, and out of sight.

**There's a lot of symbolism in this chapter. I was feeling philosophical. I blame my ADD brain which thinks of everything and leaves no detail out. Meh. Well, I'm not sure if this story will be ending soon or not. If I can, I want to continue it for as long as possible. But the only problem with that is that I have Auditions for All-State band coming up and my next belt test is in February. (I take Taekwondo.) So I'm going to be really busy, not to mention that soccer practices start in a week. Maybe? I'm not sure… So, this thing will be typed during study hall and Saturdays most likely. **


	14. Chapter 14

**Well, guys. I knew this story was going to be on this site, but I didn't think it would end up being brought up at school. Turns out a friend of mine decided that it would be a great idea to show this to the head of our middle school. Why is something I can't revile over the internet, but I never thought my Fanfiction would ever be brought up in school. Why did I never thing it would be brought up? Because normally, the head of middle school does not go on Fanfiction websites normally populated by teenage anime fangirls… The good news is that she said I have talent. Coming from my head of middle school I take that as a huge compliment. And, I'm pretty sure none of you ever read ridiculously long A/Ns that take up about half the word count in the chapter, so I'm just going to start writing now**

Al had been in the clinic for at least six weeks. Well, that's what he guessed anyway. He had lost count after the fourth week. He had started writing to pass the time. Words just flew out of his fingers and onto the page. It was like they were doing it on their own. He would just stare blank eyed at the page as his hand flew across it, weaving together people, places, and events. He discovered he liked to write based off of life experience. He based his characters off of himself and his friends and family and wrote stories day and night. He stayed up late into the night with a flashlight he had managed to take from a drawer in the kitchen downstairs. He had snuck out in the middle of the night must have been three in the morning. It had been stormy that night, and there was a blackout. He knew that because he tried to turn on the light and it wouldn't come on. He had verified it with several other lights around the clinic before deciding that this was the perfect opportunity to get a flashlight to do some midnight writing. He picked the lock on the kitchen door and started looking through drawers until he found one with a huge number of flashlights in it. He took two, one in case the other burned out, and closed the drawer. He went back to his room, making sure to cover his tracks and make it look like they had just forgotten to lock the door. He went back to his room, and opened the notebook they had given him as a journal. He was free to write in it as he liked and took to writing stories mostly. It was his outlet. His escape. Without it, life would be horribly painful. He used the classic, flashlight under the blanket method he had used every night as a kid. His hand flew across the page, writing stories about people going through hardships similar to his own and how they overcame them. It gave him hope and helped him look ahead instead of looking down (That can have multiple interpretations.) It was like his characters were him. And by putting them in similar situations to his own, it helped him see the light at the end of the tunnel instead of the darkness around him. And it helped him let out any stress and emotion by making his characters have a huge breakdown and cry in a corner or by getting them beat up or letting them beat up someone else. He was sure that if these characters were real, that they wouldn't do something like that. He never designed their personalities as such but it helped to release pent up emotion instead of taking it out on himself. He felt that if that were taken away, he wouldn't know quite what to do with himself, and he knew the end result would _not _be very pleasant for anyone involved. Exercising was the same way for him. If he wasn't out doing his job, he was usually at the gym or taking a walk. He especially like the punching bags at the gym. They allowed him to release his pent up emotions without killing _too_ many people. He and his collogues might have been serial killers for a living but they were still people and never killed without reason. They never hurt someone if they had no reason to, and tried to keep other people from doing it. And through all of this, they were especially protective of their friends and family members. One of them got stabbed, there was always someone else who had their back and was willing to help should the need arise. Having said that, there were the times when they would mess around with each other. Other people sometimes thought they were actually trying to hurt each other. Those people to Al, were the most oblivious people he had meet. They were usually distant friends who didn't know how he and the others functioned and were new to the whole murder for a living idea. His family and friends were a tightly knit group and were protective over one another.

The doctors had mentioned that they might allow Al to go back home soon, and he awaited that day with bated breath. He would be allowed to go home again. He couldn't wait for that day to come. He knew it would be soon, the doctors had told him three to four weeks. In the time he had been there, he had gained enough weight to be considered healthy. He no longer felt insecure, since he had started writing and taking it out on fictional characters that don't exist in real life. He was at a normal weight, albeit quite a bit scrawnier than most his age, he had reached a normal weight. The doctors wanted to keep him for another few weeks to monitor his health and to be sure he was strong enough to be let back into the care of relatives. It was strange, people had been telling him to find a 'healthy' outlet for all his emotion, and once he found one, he wanted it to be secret, and not let anyone see it. No one knew about his writing and he was up to chapter thirteen on one story he had been working on.

It had been a few weeks, but it was time for Al to head home. He took his notebook with him and looked around his room one last time before leaving it for good. He closed the door to his room and on life in the clinic, and went outside to wait for Matt to come. He was supposed to pick him up at 2:30 that afternoon. Al waited on the front steps of the clinic for a few minutes before a familiar car pulled up. He stood, notebook in hand and got in before shutting the door. Matt pulled him into a one armed hug for a while, before starting the long drive home. The whole way home, Matt and Al talked about how life had been at the center and what had happened in the time Al had been there. Matt never noticed the green notebook in Al's hand, as he was too focused on the road ahead. They got home, and the brothers got out of the car, walking up the path to the house. Oliver saw them coming, and ran out to greet them. He ran out the door, down the steps and tackled Al into the grass. Al smirked and laughed a little. Francis walked down the stairs and Oliver got off of Al long enough for Francis to pull him into a one armed hug, and ruffle his hair. Al grinned. Home. He was finally home. Those five/six (maybe seven, he wasn't sure.) weeks had felt like years. He was so glad to be home, with his family, at last. He put his notebook in his room before going down to the living room to discuss all that had happened to him in his stay at the clinic with his family.

Al kept writing, eventually publishing some of his stories on the internet for other people to see. He wasn't sure what had called him to do so, but he felt as if it was the right thing to do. He didn't even know why himself. He had an idea one night. It was around two in the morning, and it wouldn't go away until he wrote it down, so he pulled out his phone, which was closer to his bed than his notebook, and started typing with his thumbs. After about a thousand words, he put his phone on the bedside table with full intent on finishing the piece later on his computer. He feel asleep shortly after that, dreaming about what he would turn that story into, brain already planning the plot and characters he would use.

Exactly one month later, he published the story on the internet, it had turned a little more violent than expected, but then again, he had worse in the notebook that he never planned on publishing. He sat at his chair on the computer, editing and typing, and wondering what exactly he would do with this story. Something deep within him told him to keep writing, and that's exactly what he did. He wouldn't go to 'work' for another few weeks anyway. He had plenty of time.

He kept it up for weeks, posting new chapters whenever a new idea occurred to him or something happened to him that he thought was worth writing about, and life was going fairly well, he was feeling a lot better about himself and he wasn't insecure anymore. Well, he _was_ insecure, but not as insecure. Everyone's a little insecure about something; it's just a matter of what.

Oliver was worried. Al had been spending more and more time in his room, and it was very concerning. Oliver wasn't sure what was in that notebook he had brought home, but he was worried that it might have been another record of weights, or maybe a food diary. Al looked healthier, though. A thin layer of muscle clung to his bones, and his face looked fuller, and his arms no longer looked like toothpicks. Sure, he was still a lot skinnier than a normal nineteen year old boy should be, but he was still recovering to some extent, right? Oliver still had locks on the bathroom door, and was making sure to feed Al enough for him to be functioning normally. Al wasn't as uncomfortable with eating as he was six weeks ago, and was eating meals that were only a little smaller than a normal meal. But Oliver was still worried. Oliver naturally worried a lot about his family, they were all he had left. He didn't want anything seriously bad to happen to them, and always kept a close eye on them, and now even closer. And he had good reason to, considering they all had rough pasts. He waited until the early hours of one morning, when he went to Al's room and picked up the notebook. He flipped through it, and was surprised. He never knew Al to be a writer. Some of what he wrote was very, very depressing. It hurt Oliver to know that this could very possibly be what Al had been going through for a long time. He put the book down. It was an outlet for Al and he wasn't going to mess with that. He figured writing to Al must have been like baking was to him; an outlet for extra pent up emotion that needed a way out. He knew that this was a good thing. It was a hell of a lot better than what Al had been using in the past, and he knew that. He put the notebook back on the desk, and looked at Al for a moment before running a hand through his hair and going back downstairs to think and mull things over in his head a bit.

All three members of the family had kept checking up on Al periodically once he had come home. Al still didn't feel much better though, even though he had been officially cleared from the clinic. He still, even now, felt kind of depressed. It wasn't as bad as before when it felt like the words of self-hatred were circling his head, but it was still pretty bad. He wanted to talk to his family about it, but wasn't quite sure how to approach them. He decided to sleep on it for a few days and decide in time. For now, he would use his writing as a journal of sorts, and make his characters go through the same thing. He wasn't sure why, but doing that seemed to help him feel a little better about himself.

**Well, guys, some pretty serious shit's been going down for the past few days so this chapter has quite a few messages for those in my personal life. I tend to do that a lot, put messages and vents in my writing. I hope you still liked this chapter despite the rants hidden in the words. I seriously don't know how I pulled that off, but then again, this story is still writing itself. I also base the roles of these characters on real people in my life. Their traits are a mix of my friends and some of my family, usually my siblings. I really didn't put much of my parents in this story. **


	15. Chapter 15

**Hi, more updating! I don't have the slightest clue where this is going. I really don't. I don't know if there's much to write about for this story anymore though. I'll try to keep it going for a while longer, but I really can't say whether this story will go on for much longer. I plan on writing more of the other fic I started the SI fic. I plan on writing more of that after I wrap this one up. It shouldn't be too much longer now. If you guys are interested in the other fic I'm writing, you can go look at it. I've already posted the first chapter and plan on writing more of it and updating it far more often once this thing is wrapped up. **

Matt was sitting in his room, reading with his back against his headboard when he heard a knock on the door. He hummed as a come in, and his brother walked in the room. Matt didn't say anything, just watched as his brother walked over and sat on the end of his bed, downcast look in his eyes. He crawled over and sat next to Al, waiting for him to say something. Al's head was down, and his hair was hiding his eyes, although Matt knew that if he could see those eyes, they would be the very picture of depression; completely hopeless and void. The two brothers sat on the bed for about ten minutes, before Al leaned into Matt's side, a silent plea for comfort, Matt wrapped his arm around his brother's shoulders, drawing him into his side. He could still feel too many bones in Al's shoulders, pressing against his hand, like he was laying it on a skeleton's shoulder instead of his brothers. But Al did have more meat on his bones than when he had first been admitted to the clinic. He guessed Al would never make it back to the way he had been, but that didn't matter now. Matt was going to personally make sure he got back to normal eventually. Al curled up into Matt's side, bringing his legs up onto the bed, beside him, using his brother as a human pillow. Matt rubbed his arm gently as he made himself comfortable. Al thought back to better times, nights when he and Matt would stay up really late and talk all night, and eventually fall asleep on each other when the sun was starting to peak over the mountains. Francis was usually the first one up in those days and he would drag them back to their rooms, or sometimes, he would get lazy and just throw them into one room. Then there were those times when he would crawl into bed with them, because he was still tired. Al would wake up so warm he could hardly stand it, with Matt on one side of him and Francis on the other, both keeping him warm. He would curl up into a warm, happy ball and fall back asleep until one or the other woke him up again. He missed those times. Matt stood up, grabbing him by the hand and dragging him downstairs. He made him sit on the couch as he began making hot chocolate. The two of them sat there in silence for a while before Al began to speak

"I still don't feel much better." He said, sipping at the hot chocolate in his hand, burning his lip painfully in the process. Matt sighed. "Al, I don't know what it's going to take for you to realize it, but you look perfectly _fine_. You looked fine even before you started to lose so much weight." Al didn't say anything, Matt continued "Look, I realize I was never the greatest of siblings, but you're still my brother; I still care about you. Now, I'm not sure exactly what triggered this, but whatever it was, it wasn't worth it. For fuck's sake, Al, you were in a coma for six months! You were risking your life for some self-confidence. It scared the shit out of me." Al looked down. Matt looked at him for a moment, before putting his hot chocolate on the coffee table. "I don't know what it was either." Al finally said "I think it was just a combination of small things that tore my self-esteem to pieces and lead to this." It was the first time he had told any of his family about what could have caused it. He didn't think it was specifically that day when he first skipped a meal. He thought it could easily have been his personal insecurities and stress as well. He had started to eat less and less before that first skipped meal as well. No one had really noticed. Oliver had brought it up once, and one night, he caught Francis giving his plate a look that could have passed for worry. But no one had really noticed anything until he actually started skipping meals. Matt was silent for a moment, before running a hand through his hair. "Well, at least you came to me when you were feeling like that." He said Al smiled a little bit, head still bowed ever so slightly. Matt pulled him into his side again, and this time, Al hugged him back. It soon turned into one of those nights when they stayed up till the sun came up talking and just being brothers. Eventually, Al fell asleep on Matt's shoulder and Matt feel asleep with his head leaning on Al's, his deep breaths blowing through his brother's hair like wind does through a grassy field.

Francis yawned. He wasn't sure how or why he got up so early, but it happened. He rolled over and tried to go back to sleep, but he couldn't. After about half an hour of trying to slip back into the darkness of sleep, he just got up and went downstairs to make breakfast and maybe get drunk again. He always had a personal rule that he never drank until after he had had his coffee but today he might make an exception to that. He walked into the kitchen but something made him stop short. He went into the living room and saw Matt and Al curled up asleep on the couch. A tiny hint of a smile played on his lips and sparked for about a half a second in his eyes, before he walked over to the brothers and hefted Matt into his arms, he dragged him to his bedroom and flopped him on the bed and went back downstairs for Al. He picked Al up which was easier than it should have been, but definitely harder than it was before. He lifted Al into his arms and his head flopped over Francis's arm, Francis shifted the head so it was rested against his shoulder and dragged Al up to Matt's bedroom where he had deposited Matt earlier. He flopped Al next to his brother and checked the clock. It was six A.M. Way too early to be awake, in Francis's opinion. He laid down next to Al and went back to sleep, wrapping one arm around his brother. Matt had done likewise in his sleep.

Al woke with two arms wrapped around him and Matt and Francis asleep on either side of him. It was one of those mornings. He didn't realize how much he missed waking up like this until now. He curled himself up into a little ball and went back to sleep, warm and happy.

Francis woke and looked at the clock 9:00. Okay, this was acceptable. He got up and went downstairs, he saw Oliver sitting at the kitchen table, with breakfast made and set out for everyone. He grabbed a cup of coffee, sat down next to his brother and started reading the paper, it seemed just like a normal morning. None of them could have been expecting what happened next…

Matt and Al were headed out to do some grocery shopping, since Oliver needed (big surprise.) more cupcake mix. Francis also needed more wine and cigarettes, so the two brothers headed out to get the requested items. They got in the car and made small talk on the way to the store. They were talking about childhood memories and all those little times together they had spent as siblings. But then, as they were going through an intersection, a car ran a red light and slammed into the side of Matt's car. Both brothers were thrown forward into the airbags, as the sounds of crunching medal, and shattering glass surrounded them. Al screamed as he was thrown first forward into the airbag, but then sideways into Matt's shoulder, as the car flipped and skidded down the road, Matt grabbed him around the shoulder, and pulled him into his side, as Al's side of the car crashed into a pole. Al's vision was gray and blurry for a while, but when he became fully coherent, he became fully aware of the pain shooting through his body. He couldn't even take inventory of which body parts specifically hurt. He just felt pain all over. He looked over at Matt, and saw a gash in his forehead bleeding fairly badly, his eyes were unfocused and his left arm was twisted awkwardly. Matt's vision cleared and he looked over at his brother. Al didn't look so hot either. He had a long gash down one side of his face, an arm twisted at a weird angle, and one leg looked trapped. And that was all Matt could see, he was sure Al had much worse. That's when he saw the smoke coming from under what was left of the hood. He grabbed a fairly uninjured part of Al (that being his shoulder) and tried to pull him out. He heard his brother yell briefly in pain and he looked back. Al's ankle was trapped in the twisted medal wreckage that he thought must have been the door at one point.

Al twisted his ankle left and right despite the searing pain unable to get it lose. He had seen the smoke and smelled the fire. He knew they had to get out of there and _fast_. Matt grabbed his shoulder and tried to pull him out, he screamed briefly as a fiery pain shot up his leg. Matt crawled past him, and tried to free the broken ankle. Al gritted his teeth in pain and bit his lip, causing it to bleed, blood as red as his eyes dripping down his lip and onto Matt's seat, which he had been pulled into. Matt pulled particularly hard and eventually Al's leg was freed. Matt grabbed him by the shoulder again and pulled him out, trying hard to ignore the pain coming from his ribs, shoulder and arm. They crawled out as best they could, by that point, people who had stopped to help pull the brothers away from the twisted medal wreckage that had once been Matt's car. Then, not five minutes later, the fire under the hood enveloped the car. People screamed and Matt groaned and muttered something about 'insurance bullshit. Never going to be able to afford this, dammit.' A few seconds after the car had turned into a fire ball of death, the paramedics, fire department, and police arrived. The paramedics loaded Al, and Matt into an ambulance, and started for the hospital. The fire department doused the flames and the police started interviewing witnesses and assessing the damage done. They determined that the other driver had been drunk, and high the man hadn't been hurt too bad in the crash. He had broken a wrist, but that was about it. They took him into custody and would determine what to do with him later.

Oliver was sitting at home with Francis waiting for the boys to get home from their shopping trip. He looked at the clock. They should be headed home now. He heard the phone ring, and Francis got up to answer it. "Hello?... Yeah… They _what?! _Yeah… Yeah, we'll get over there as fast as possible." He went back into the living room, tiny amount of fear showing in his purple eyes. "They were in a car accident. We need to get to the hospital _now._"

**Well, I guess this story will be continuing for a while longer. I don't know where the make them get into a car accident idea came from. It just came into my head and said "YOU MUST WRITE ME!" A lot of my ideas do that. Actually, I'm pretty sure almost all of my ideas do that. **


	16. Chapter 16

**I apologize for the long wait, but a distant friend of mine committed suicide about a week ago, when I was still about halfway through making this chapter, but I kind of have an excuse. Just expect this to get really really depressing in the second half or so.**

**Okay, this chapter… I don't even know anymore… I have that feeling that more ideas are going to come flying into my head and scream "YOU MUST WRITE ME NOW!" Because that's what all of them do. So I'm just going to wing this one. Same thing I've done for all the other fifteen chapters. I'm amazed that this got as long as it did. **

Oliver went pale and then stood up and he and Francis ran out the door, Oliver panicking and Francis trying really really hard to maintain his normal poker face. Either way, both of them were worried sick. They ran out the door and into the car to go to the hospital. Tears were streaming down Oliver's face at the thought that one or both of them could be dead or dying right now. Francis was equally scared, but refused to show it and tried to stay as blank faced as possible. They drove to the hospital as fast as they could without getting pulled over and parked as quickly as possible. They ran in the doors and up to the front desk, Oliver inquired about the boys and the nurse told them that they had been rushed into the ER about ten minutes ago and gave them a huge pile of paperwork to fill out. Oliver could hardly see where he was going let alone write anything, so Francis filled out the paperwork and Oliver curled up in a corner crying. Once Francis was done with the paperwork, he walked over to Oliver, grabbed his brother by the arm, plopped him down in a seat and started giving him a pep talk.

Once Oliver had calmed down enough, Francis sat down next to him and they waited in silence (albeit Oliver sniffling on occasion) for the nurses to tell them weather Al and Matt were okay or not.

It had been two hours and Oliver had fallen asleep against a wall and Francis was moving on from ceiling tiles to counting the bricks in the walls when a nurse came in and asked "Family of Allen F. Jones and Matthew Williams?" Francis stood up, cracked his back, and looked over at Oliver who was still asleep on the wall, drooling and mumbling something about cupcakes. He kicked him harshly in the shin, making him jump and scream something about purple cows and ceiling fans (Sorry, I'm in a weird mood.) Francis rolled his eyes and grabbed his arm around the bicep and dragged him toward the nurse who just shook her head and lead them to the room where the brothers were being kept.

Al woke and looked around. He was in a hospital room with Matt laying in the bed next to him. His right arm and leg were in casts, He felt his face and felt stitches, wincing, he looked down and saw another hospital gown. Keeping his lower half covered with the blanket, he pulled up the gown to see the damage done. It looked pretty bad, bruising all along the right side of his ribs; he poked them with his left index finger, and winced. It was pretty obvious that some of them were broken. He looked over at Matt. The cut on his forehead was stitched up, and his left arm was in a sling and there was a cast on his right wrist. His left leg was in a cast and there was bruising all up and down his face and neck. Al looked down at his uninjured arm; there was bruising, but it was harder to see since his skin was so dark.

Matt groaned and looked around. A hospital room, he looked to his left and saw his brother with stitched running up one side of his face, his right arm and leg in casts and bruises running up and down his face, neck and arms. At about that moment, Oliver and Francis came running in the room. Oliver was flying all over them both in a heartbeat asking what happened and if they were okay and yadda yadda yadda.

"We're fine." Matt said through Oliver's crushing hug. Francis's eyes darted over them, slightly wider than normal. He walked over and sat at the edge of Al's bed, falling off and landing on his butt when Oliver ran over to hug Al. Francis got up growling and sat on the chair next to Matt's bed. Oliver let go of Al for a moment and sat on the end of his bed.

"So, what happened?" Francis asked, leaning back in the chair. Matt told the story from their point of view and Oliver's eyes got more and more tear filled at every word. Francis's eyes widened a sign of fear and/or concern. After Matt finished telling them the story, they both got another crushing hug from Oliver. A nurse came in to check up on the two of them and told Oliver and Francis the extent of their injuries. Matt had broken his right wrist, and four ribs. He had to get ten stitches in his forehead. He had also broken his left collar bone and would need a sling for a while. Apart from that, it was mostly bruises and cuts. Al had a compound fracture (Google it. It's pretty nasty.) in his right ankle and complete fracture in his right arm. He had to get forty stitches along one side of his face which would leave one hell of a scar. He had broken five ribs, but aside from that, there were only cuts and bruises. Oliver went even paler upon hearing the exact extent of the damage done on Al and Matt. Al and Matt listened to the damage done, but didn't seem entirely surprised. The nurse said they would be released after about a week in the hospital to make sure they were up to par. Matt would be released after about four days, actually, but Al had to stay longer since he wasn't fully healed yet. Then, the nurse hooked them up to another medication and left the room before any of them could ask any more questions. Matt and Al fell asleep shortly after that, the new medicine and the injuries making them tired.

Francis had gone home, but Oliver stayed, and looked out the window. This hospital was a strange one, they put scented candles in the windows with a clam that they helped calm the patients. It was true in some cases, but in others it just caused migraines and made them more miserable. Al and Matt were asleep, although it was only six 'o clock. The sun had already set, and Oliver sat in a chair looking out at the starry sky with the small light from the candle reflecting off the window. He thought back to the recent events. They made him realize just how precious life is. Although they were nations, they lived like normal people. Their counterparts took care of all the paperwork. They couldn't be killed by age, and were stronger than normal people, but could still be killed by injury. He glanced down at the paper on the table next to him to see it open to the obituaries. He never read them, as they depressed him to no end, but something made him pick the paper up and scan the obituaries. He saw one for a 17 year old boy who had (according to the obituary) committed suicide. He felt tears well in his eyes and put the paper down. Enough people were killed on a daily basis by natural or accidental causes. And it hurt those around them enough as it was. No one needed a friend, a family member, or an acquaintance to do that to themselves. He looked back at the paper and saw a picture of the front of the school the boy had gone to. There were flowers all around the entrance to the school, a constant reminder of the life that had been lost for the students who entered that school on a daily basis. Oliver looked at the candle on the windowsill. He sighed, breath fogging the glass, and leaned his head against the window pane and looked out at the stars, wondering why people felt so hopeless. Why people felt as if no one cared. Because someone did care. Someone always, _always_ cared. Oliver looked at his brothers. He could never be able to take it if one of them were to die especially from something so preventable. He looked out the window and at the stars again, before kissing each of them on the forehead and walking out the door, still deep in thought.

Oliver walked down the cold streets, breath visible on the icy wind, hands in his pockets, head down and eyes clouded over in thought. As he walked, it began to snow and he paused as he was walking, and leaned against a lamp post at a corner and watched the flakes dance in the wind. Every time a car passed on the road, the snowflakes it had stirred up fluttered around like they were lost just to settle again as if nothing had happened. He continued walking, watching as the snow danced and swirled like the flour of one of his cupcakes, but so much more beautiful. He arrived home, and went straight up to bed, flopping down on the matrices. He wondered about those snowflakes for a moment more. They were kind of like people. Running around, always busy, no one exactly like another. He fell asleep, dreams of snowflakes and car accidents flying around his head at a million miles an hour

**I know this chapter is really, really short, but I hope it's enough for now. I plan on writing another longer one in a few days. I'm really busy right now. Between Band auditions and science tests and emotional breakdowns you get sorta busy ya know? **


	17. Chapter 17

**Yay, free time! Actually school was cancelled today because of snow, which for me is awesome, because I was supposed to have a soccer game today and now I don't have to play in the freezing cold. I love soccer, but not in the cold. So, this chapter is probably going to get super depressing, because I don't want to end this story yet. I love it too much. So, I'm going to drag it out for as long as I possibly can. It's only been two months and we're already on chapter seventeen. I'm impressed to say the least. **

It had been a week and Al and Matt had finally been released from the hospital. They were headed home with instructions on when to come back and what to do to the injuries and the usual things hospitals tell you to do. But, they were healed enough to make kills again, so it was all worth it in the end. Oliver made them take it easy for a while after they got out of the hospital to give them a little more recovery time. Lord knows, they needed it.

However, having that extra week off and at home gave Al time to thing. And when people have too much time to think, they tend to get depressed and when Al gets depressed, bad things happen. Francis, Oliver and Matt had decided to trust him to go to the bathroom by himself again, but had taken the scale away. He looked in the mirror, and saw that distorted version of himself that his mind made, instead of who he really was. He saw the layers of fat and the round cheeks. In a panic, he looked under the sink just to remember that they had taken away the scale. He looked around desperately. He had to think of a way to get a scale. He had to weigh himself, or he feared his weight would be 'out of control' as it had before. Or so he thought. The reality was that he had reached a perfectly healthy weight and if he wanted to keep it that way, restricting wasn't going to help.

Al walked back to his room, the darkness inside his mind taking over again, gripping his mind and squeezing any good thoughts from it. He walked back to his room, mind racing, trying to come up with a plan. He got to his room and looked for a hiding spot big enough to hide a scale and bottle of diet pills and whatever else he felt he would need. He went downstairs after deciding to find a place later. He hadn't been able to find anything and it was beyond frustrating.

About a half an hour later, however, Oliver, Matt, and Francis had to leave to do something. They didn't say what, but Al was fairly sure it was to talk to someone about taking care of the kills he and Matt were missing in their time off. When they left the house, and idea came to him, and he ran down to the tool shed. He grabbed a hammer and ran back to his room and moved the desk that sat in one corner He looked behind it to see a spot in the corner that was missing the carpet. It looked as if the old carpet had just never been put down in that particular spot for whatever reason. He looked at the clock. Oliver had said they wouldn't be back for a while, so he figured it was safe. He used the end of the hammer to pry up the nails and make a hiding place. It was perfect. Just the right size to hide a scale, measuring tape, bottle of diet pills, whatever he would need. He replaced the floor boards and the desk, hiding the nails under his mattress. He put the hammer back in the shed and sat in the living room, waiting for Matt, Oliver, and Francis to come back home.

Matt was still worried. He could _feel_ it in a weird way whenever his brother felt bad about himself. Call it brothers' telepathy if you'd like, Matt didn't know what it was. He only knew how to use it. He had never told anyone about it, even Al didn't know. But he felt it about ten minutes before they left to talk to someone about taking their kills, however, it suddenly stopped. Matt didn't like that. He was very worried. Whenever an emotional rush from his brother stopped suddenly like that. Well, he knew it was usually a bad thing. After they finished talking to Luciano and Flavo, who had agreed to take the kills for payment, albeit less than normal, since this was an injury leave. Matt was anxious to get home and make sure Al was okay.

When they got home, he found Al sleeping on the sofa, and sat on a chair next to him, and studied him for a moment. Why would an emotional rush like that end so suddenly. It was never a good sign. Ever.

Oliver could tell Matt was worried. Matt was very, very worried. And that scared Oliver. Matt knew Al better than anyone, having grown up with him and the two of them basically raising each other before Oliver and Francis found them. But he knew he had to have faith that Al would heal. There was only so far therapy could go, and he knew it. It was really up to Al whether or not he healed and how fast he healed. Oliver wasn't sure if Al knew that or not. Hell, Al might not even want to get better. There was no telling what that sick and twisted mental disease was doing to his brother. But he had to have faith. Luciano and Flavo had taken him aside and talked to him about Al's wellbeing and what was really going on. When Al had been in that coma, Oliver had lied to everyone who had come, telling them that he had been hit by a car and healed quickly because he was a nation. Which was plausible but Luciano had a way of seeing around those thing and eventually Oliver told the Italian brothers what had really happened. Flavo's eyes had widened considerably. He and Al had always been good friends. Luciano swore under his breath. They swore not to tell anyone but would not be forgetting this.

Al wondered when the opportunity to go get what he needed would arise. But he knew, that whenever that opportunity came he would take it, no question. That opportunity presented itself later that week when all three of his brothers were out and Oliver had left Al a note telling him to go shopping that day. Al smiled. This was his chance. He grabbed his keys and ran out to his truck, Oliver's list in hand. He drove to the store and bought all the requested items and then picked a simple bathroom scale that would fit under the floor boards, a measuring tape to measure his stomach, thighs, and arms. It was something that he regretted lacking last time. He would have done so much better with one. At least, he thought so. It would be something more to record. He also bought a new notebook and more diet pills. While he was checking out, the cashier asked him if he were going on a diet. He lied and said these were for his cousin. He was surprised with the lie, but kept that surprise hidden behind the practiced poker face and sunglasses. He had learned that wearing sunglasses everywhere keeps people from staring at his red eyes. They also made it harder for people to guess his emotions which he didn't want anyone to know. He had been conditioned to believe that emotions were weakness.

Once Al was home, he took the bag with the diet supplies and hid everything beneath the loosened floorboards and replaced the desk. He was glad now that it was an exceptionally light desk and that his counterpart did all the paperwork. He sat on his bed and thought for a moment. Did he really want to do this? Was it really worth it? Light and darkness fought in his mind the ever constant war going back into full swing. Yes. He decided. It was worth it. It was worth it to be thin and not have twenty chins and love handles the size of the Empire State Building. It was worth it to cough up blood and bile and bits of food. It was worth it to keep it hidden from his family. It was all worth it. The light inside him made him think back to what it had done to his family the first time, but darkness quickly shut it up. Al laid back on his bed, staring at the blank, white celling. He laid there for a while before going downstairs to put the rest of the groceries away. All the while, a war waging in his head. Light against dark. The age old battle of good against evil. But which side was good? Which was evil? He just didn't know anymore.

**I feel like I just wrote a midget chapter. It feels really short. If it is, I can add some meat to its bones. Thanks for all the awesome reviews, guys. I know this isn't the most popular concept. I mean, as far as I know, I'm the only one to have this idea so far. But I don't care if I'm the first one to bring this idea to life in this fandom. If I'm the first, I'm the first. Who cares? Also. Olympics. I'M SUPER EXCITED! **


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